


Odds and Ends

by limit_breaker



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars: Aftermath - Chuck Wendig
Genre: Gen, I would pay Rae Sloane to murder me, Pre-TFA, post-Empire's End, pretty pointless but I just wanted to write about my favs getting along ok!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-09-28 02:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 34,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10064924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limit_breaker/pseuds/limit_breaker
Summary: Far off in the Unknown Regions, Grand Admiral Sloane designs to take control of the galaxy. But she's learned from past mistakes-- she can't do it alone. She'll need allies, loyalty. The boy, Armitage: she might be able to make something of him yet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NerdyChick321](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyChick321/gifts).



> Dedicated to @nerdychick321 for buying me this A+ book! <333
> 
> soooo I'm in love with Rae Sloane and overcome with a mighty need to read about her and my other problematic fav and how they work together in vicious villainy to eventually take over the galaxy <3 OK, kinda getting ahead of myself but whatever, I just love the idea of them as a team, even though canonically it probably ends badly for Sloane... ;( either way, I haven't found much in the way of fanworks yet, so I guess I had to write something myself instead. :B
> 
> Spoilers for Aftermath//Empire's End, I guess? Anyway, you can probably piece together what happens even if you didn't read the actual book(s).

===

It's about four standard weeks into their journey through the Unknown when Rae finds the boy curled up asleep in an armchair in the lounge on the second deck. She's come for some alone-time herself, knowing the elder Hux never ventures down this far on the _Imperialis_ and that small, strange army of feral children never seems to leave the training area. She could have gone to the room she's designated as her own, but as the weeks drag on, it becomes more and more depressing to stay cooped up there for extended periods of time and coming to the common area is somewhat refreshing, even if she's not here to socialize.

His presence was not immediately noticed, but it startles her when she does catch sight of that mop of bright red hair, standing out like a sore thumb in the dark corner of the otherwise abandoned room. Realizing it is only tiny Armitage Hux slumbering peacefully in the chair, she sighs and decides to let him be, settling herself into a different chair on the far side of the room, close to the triangular viewports, and begins reading the ship's records on her datapad, again. She's read these records over and over, committed most of them to memory by now. Since the ship hasn't had much flight time, there's honestly not that much to remember. She reads over the inventory of provisions, again; there's still enough stock to last them three full years. She suspects her sanity will have run out long before the food if this journey is to last that long. She tires of these logs quickly tonight and switches tabs to type something herself instead.

Her notes at this point have become scantly more than a diary of sorts, _chronicling my forthcoming descent into madness_ , she thinks grimly. It's not easy being cooped up in this ship with Brendol Hux being the only other adult aboard. _If he even counts_. But she steels herself, knowing that hardship is what forges strength. The isolation she faces here will come to serve her well as she rises to become the leader of the galaxy. Her Empire. She will do it, she thinks. She has to.

She's written a bit about her experiences on Jakku, namely her brief time spent in an uneasy allyship with Norra Wexley. Through several bizarre twists of fate, she wouldn't be alive had it not been for Norra and her husband. Rax would be on this ship, not her. Him and his bastardized version of the Empire. Somehow working together with those Rebels is what saved her, is what will eventually save her empire. Weird, how things work, sometimes.

By rights, Norra should have executed her when she had the chance, there at the end. Rae would have done it had she been in Norra's position. Maybe. Well, she's not sure. Before it all went down, she knows she would have done it without flinching. But Norra had looked Rae square in the eye and told her she was 'sad' for her. And then she dropped her blaster and left. Mercy? Or damnation? Perhaps Norra thought she was leaving her to a fate more cruel than death, knowing everything Rae had worked for was in shambles at her feet. Rae doubts that, but can't say for sure. If it's true, though, if that were really Norra's intention, it gives Rae further impetus to keep going, to rise again. Spite is an incredibly powerful motivator, she's found. And yet, if she does manage to establish her empire, she notes, she sincerely hopes she won't have to face Norra Wexley again.

Rae takes note of not only her mental processes as this journey drags on, but also of the bizarre phenomena they've witnessed out here in the depths of the uncharted regions. To the best of her ability, she tries to detail exactly where they've encountered certain mass forms-- satellites, meteors, or otherwise-- for if-- no, _when_ \-- they come back this way.

So absorbed in her work is she that hours pass before she notices how heavy her eyelids have become, how slow her mind. She's worn herself out for the day. Powering off her datapad, she rises from her chair and stretches, her joints popping from being too long at rest. That ache in her side throbs and she winces a bit, then remembers that she's not alone here and it will not do to let her guard down, even if the room's only other occupant is a sleeping five year old child, still curled in on himself, breathing steadily.

She frowns. Why is he here instead of in his quarters with his father? If it's for the reason she suspects, it's about time she pays Brendol another visit. Abuse will not be tolerated aboard her ship. Not unless she's the one doling it out, and in that case it's not abuse; it's justice.

She frowns again because the boy is not her responsibility. She never had children of her own because she didn't want them, and still doesn't, but she knows she can't leave a five year old alone, even if he is asleep, and even if he is nothing but perfectly disciplined and respectful when awake.

She approaches the chair where he rests quietly, not wanting to startle him awake, and crouches down.

"Armitage," she says in just above a whisper, repeating his name when he pouts but doesn't rouse. "Armitage," she says louder, touching his shoulder. He gasps and his eyes fly open, meeting hers with a wild, terrified gape.

"Shh," she keeps her hand wrapped around his upper arm firmly, and he slowly comes back to himself, blinking and rubbing his eyes.

"Sorry, sir." He says, sitting up, posture straight as a board.

"What are you doing here, Armitage? Why aren't you in your quarters with your father?"

His shoulders slump ever so slightly and he looks down.

It's as she suspected: _he's hurt him again_. The thought of it fills her with fury beyond simply knowing that the older Hux has disobeyed her direct order. Typical of the stubborn man, she thinks, he has to be told more than once. He won't get another warning.

"Come on," she says, standing. "I'll deal with him in the morning. But I'm not leaving you here on your own."

The boy scoots off the chair and stands, staring up at her, waiting. She turns and he follows after her, falling into formation as if he thinks to match her long, practiced strides with his tiny legs.

She leads them to her quarters, the nicest-- and largest-- such room on the yacht, wherein she points to a couch in the living space outside her own bedroom and tells him he can sleep there. He pulls his boots off in the antechamber before entering and lines them up toe-first against the wall. The corner of Rae's mouth hitches up to see such precise commitment to orderliness from such a young child.

The lights brighten to 80% as the boy makes his way to her couch, and Rae goes to pour him glass of water. There's something of a small kitchen in these quarters, though Rae never uses it, not having the provisions nor any knowledge of cooking anyway. Perhaps in the actual _Imperialis_ , this room would have been fitted with a protocol droid to attend to meals and drinks, but alas. No such comforts on this mere replica. Walking back into the living space, she sets the glass of water on the sleek black table in front of him while he watches her quietly, perhaps unsure of what to do.

"Thank you, sir." He says quietly.

"You will address me as Grand Admiral," she corrects, folding her arms over her chest.

"Yes, Grand Admiral."

She gives him a half-smile of acknowledgment before walking to her room to fetch an extra pillow and blanket for the child.

"Here," she offers them to him and he accepts them silently, swallowing.

He stares down at the items a moment before looking back up at her, eyes glassy, and says: "Thank you, Grand Admiral."

Polite, she thinks, overly so. And formal, beyond a measly five years. _What has Brendol done to you?_  

She almost thinks to tell him "you may call me Rae when it's just us," but she doesn't want him getting too familiar with her, or the idea that this sort of arrangement will become habitual. She has no interest in minding someone else's child, no matter how advanced he may be.

"Sleep, Armitage," she tells him. "I have to be up at 0600 hours, so rest while you can."

She doesn't actually have to be up at any specific time, of course. The droid piloting the ship gets on perfectly well without her and there is no one to convey messages to and no way of doing so, but she tries to keep to a set schedule regardless, telling herself routines and order will be the only things that safeguard against falling into a pit of nihilistic depression as they carry onwards into the oblivion of the unexplored infinity. And, really, it is true. She needs that purpose, that reason to get up every morning, even if it is only for a hot cup of caf and several leisurely laps around the yacht. Without it, without purpose, she knows, things spiral into darkness quickly.

The boy nods. "Yes, Grand Admiral." He arranges himself neatly on the couch, pillow under his head, blanket draped over him completely.

"The refresher is over there, should you need it," she says, pointing at a closed door on the far wall. "I'll wake you in the morning. Goodnight, Armitage."

"Goodnight, Grand Admiral."

She orders the lights to 5% before entering her room, shutting the door behind her. If he were anyone else, she wouldn't be comfortable leaving them unsupervised in her quarters while she sleeps. But this child has always seemed the epitome of prim and proper and she has somewhat of an alliance with him that she doubts he would break. This sort of thinking has gotten her into trouble before, she knows, she _knows_ , but Armitage is a child, too naïve to rescind on treaties just yet. He has no reason to betray her and has not once shown signs of being rebellious just for the sake of it as some children do. So, she rations, she's got no reason not to trust him right now. In the morning, she'll get to the bottom of whatever Brendol has done to his son this time and take care of it, lest she give the boy a reason to doubt her. If she can't keep her end of their deal, there is no incentive for Armitage to keep his.

She changes into sleep clothes and slips into bed for the night. On the small bedside table sit the two game pieces she took when she ended the life of Gallius Rax: the Imperator and the Outcast. Which is she right now? She frowns. That's a musing for a different day. Ordering the lights off, her mind wanders to that radiant nebula she saw from the viewport earlier, its flickering neon colors reminding her of a certain type of bioluminescent insect native to the caves of her home planet. She wonders of she'll ever see them again. _Of course you will_ , she thinks, you'll have free range of movement once you become Emperor.

 

In the morning she wakes and dresses, as has become her new routine. She checks and double checks herself in the mirror, fully aware that she's got no one to see, no to meetings to attend, no one to command, and no one to impress, yet she refuses to give into that cynical temptation towards lethargy that will so seamlessly lead to despair.

There hadn't been much in the way of fresh clothing onboard the _Imperialis_ , but she was able to find a few things that fit her well enough. It's not quite the aesthetic familiarity and security of a finely-pressed uniform, but it's better than the scavenger's rags she had been wearing when she boarded this escape vessel. At least she was able to find a spare command cap in one of the drawers. As far as she knows, Brendol doesn't have one of these, so it's a nice reminder that she outranks him in all ways. Oh, right. Brendol. She'd almost forgot. Well, there is one person she has to see.

Sighing when she thinks about having to confront the boy's father again, she fits the command cap snugly over her hair and then walks into her living room to find Armitage bundled up and still dozing on her couch. She walks past him and goes to the caf machine the kitchen was blessedly fitted with (she really did take the best quarters for herself) and sets it to 10: maximum caffeination. The bubbling of the machine as it begins to dispense her much-needed wake up bev awakens the boy, who stretches, sits up, and rubs his eyes.

As she takes her steaming mug back into the living space, he is folding the blanket neatly, a task that looks somewhat ridiculous given that he's less than half the size of the thing.

"Do you drink caf?" She asks after a minute of observing him quietly, to which he just stares at her as if he doesn't speak Basic. Maybe he's not old enough to have had it before, it's also possible he's simply never been offered. "Here," she says, holding out her mug. "Try it."

His eyes widen as he hurries to take it from her. He takes a small sip and instantly pulls a face, just as quick to offer the offensive drink back to her. She smiles inwardly when she takes it back from him as he attempts to appear gracious, thanking her for the courtesy. "Not old enough to need it, I suppose," she says. "Why don't you go take a shower and I'll escort you to the training room after?"

“Yes, Grand Admiral.”

She watches him as he heads off towards the refresher, considering. She's going to need assistance as she works towards her goal of galactic unification, the mistake she made last time in thinking that she could do it alone now fastidiously learnt and acknowledged. She knows now that sometimes the right ally at the right time is what makes all the difference. And who better to enlist as an ally, then, than Armitage Hux? Already he trusts her, and it's so much easier to groom help from the beginning than win them over later after they've learned to mistrust and suspect. Besides, Armitage is exemplary in his dedication to perfection and order in a way that reminds Rae of an idealized version of herself as a girl. He's got a fine young mind and an eye for detail. Vicious as well. Not shy to oversee violence, to command it, if necessary. And those children listen to him. More than that, they listen to him alone. Though she has no intention of letting base savagery become the foundation for her empire, being able to leash and command it could be key. The boy may yet prove useful, despite what his buffoon of a father may think. She swore to protect him from Brendol in exchange for protection from those savages, and she'd better make good on that promise, for her sake, if not for the boy's. Though she'd told Brendol she didn't care, she finds that somehow, she does. In a way.

When the boy comes back from the refresher, hair wet but combed, she sets her mug down on the table and crouches down in front of him.

"Armitage," she says severely, taking him by either arm and piercing him with her gaze. "Your father. Did he hurt you? You can tell me. As I said, I'll keep you safe from him. That's part of our accord and I intend to keep my word. But I need to know, did he hurt you?"

The boy shrugs and looks down and she rebuffs him. "Eyes here," she says sharply, pointing to her own. "Don't look away from someone speaking to you."

He meets her eyes and swallows, shaking his head.

"No?"

It's obvious he wants to look away, but he's trying so hard to follow her directions, squirming under her attention, cheeks turning pink. "No," he says, finally. “But he snores so loud. I can't sleep in the same room as him."

Rae can't help herself, she laughs. She closes her eyes and bows her head, smiling. He snores too loud. Is that all this was? Brendol may still be the buffoon she thinks he is, but at least he hasn't disobeyed her. Good. For more than one reason. When she's regained composure, she looks back up at him. “And that's why you sleep in the common area?”

The boy nods. “I still don't think he likes me much, either.”

Rae gives a short sigh, shakes her head. She might be able to stop the abuse, but she'll never be able to get Brendol to love, or even like, this kid. That's not her responsibility anyway. She's got a galaxy to bring to heal, an entire order to put in place. However, she knows she can't do it alone. And this young child shows so much promise.

What does it matter that he is but a child? _The Empire needs children_. She shudders, hearing Rax's voice in her head. Disturbing though it is, and as much as it pains her to admit, it's not entirely wrong in this context. Her vision, however, is less about terror and savagery and more about loyalty and justice. And those are things instilled by good example.

She releases him and stands, smoothing down the front of her tunic. "Well," she says. "There's nothing I can do about that. But." She pauses momentarily, considering the offer she's about to make carefully. It's not one she makes lightly. "We can't have you sleeping in the officer's lounge, all right? So if ever you need a quiet place to get some shut-eye, you come see Auntie Rae. This couch will be open for you for the duration of our journey, understood?"

Armitage looks up at her, unblinking. His lips part and see sees tears beginning to line his eyelids.

"Now, none of that." She commands, straightening her posture and adopting a more formal demeanor. He does the same, a flawless mimic. All signs of moisture have evaporated from his eyes and he stands poised like a soldier ready for deployment. "To the training room, right?"

"Yes, Grand Admiral!" He salutes her, clicking his heels together as he does. She nods and they're off.

She delivers him to the training room where those strange, feral children wait to receive instruction from this boy who was very near tears just minutes ago in her living room. It's unsettling, but this is something that's already been put in place and it's not of enough concern for her to step in just yet. Perhaps if things get too out of control, she'll have to, but for now, she'll wait and see how it develops. If she truly has Armitage's loyalty, and he truly has that of this bizarre child army, then they are as good as hers. And if they are truly as fierce and brutal as they were the day Rax made her witness that gruesome display, all the better for when they grow to full adults. They might need it where they're going. Wherever that is.

  
Soon, Rae finds herself with company more often than not, but rather than being the burden or nuisance she worried it might become, it's something of a blessing. The boy hardly makes a sound when he arrives, speaks only when spoken to, and is soon proving to be more than just not-an-annoyance.

“You're hurt?” He asks her one morning, catching her wincing at the ever-present pain in her side when she comes out of her room not expecting him to be awake yet.

“No,” she says, straightening as if to prove this true, but the pain only doubles. “I'm fine.”

The boy's eyes go from her face to her ribs back to her face, giving her a look that plainly says he doesn't believe her, yet still understands. He doesn't press, but says: “Ice makes it better” and gets up and goes to her kitchen. She stands watching him, her hand now pressed flat against the throbbing ache in her side. Armitage comes back into the room carrying ice wrapped in a hand towel.

“Thank you,” she says as she takes it from him and presses it against her broken ribs. “How'd you get so smart?”

He almost smiles, then doesn't seem to know how to and shrugs. “Private education, I suspect.”

Rae does smile at him, then sits down on the couch with the ice still pressed against her. “I suspect you're right.”

He smiles up at her, for real this time. That might be the first time she's seen him do that. He's missing a tooth, the bottom center. She's almost alarmed before she realizes that he's probably of the right age for that. She doesn't know much about child development, nor does she care, frankly. It's just a thing that happens as kids become adults. She can't remember when her own adult teeth started growing in, but she couldn't have been much older than Armitage is now. What? Five? Six? It hardly matters. She nods and he salutes her before padding off to fetch her her boots. They're half as tall as he is, but he handles them as best he can and helps her pull them on as well as his clumsy, unskilled hands will allow.

Another day, not long after that, she wakes up to find that he's already up and has set the caf machine in motion. He must have been watching her, observing carefully which buttons to press and how she takes her caf. He gets it right. Clever boy. She tells him as much and soon waking up to find a steaming mug awaiting her easily becomes part of her morning routine, one of her favorites parts.

He tells her about the training when she asks. Though she still finds something repulsive about this whole thing, she sees that commanding this small army of children gives him purpose, and with it, she sees him gaining confidence. He doesn't flinch when blood is spilled, bones broken, not even-- especially not even-- when he was the one to order it. He's growing more vicious by the day. Good. His weakness as a toddler has been corrected. It's troubling on a deeper level, but superficially she can't help but to think that his earlier conditioning has given him the potential to go so far. (Stars, is she really seeing the 'good' in child abuse? No, she tells herself, that's not what she means. What she means is that this boy has been tested but not broken, that he's survived. She can't undo what's been done to him, but she can teach him to take that experience and use it as a weapon for the next time someone tries to hurt him. _That_ is why he has the potential to go far.) With time, he will make a fine right hand man. She grows more sure of this each day.

The weeks crawl onward and turn into months that drag just even slower. She has to wonder if time itself is being warped by some yet-unstudied phenomenon and that's why this journey is taking what seems like a lifetime. Though she knows it's unlikely, she worries the supplies could run out before they finally convene with the _Eclipse_. The scenario is not one she wishes to think about. She's done a lot to survive this long, but there are certain lines she's not ready to cross. Anyway, that's still a ways off and she's left hoping the _Imperialis_ will find its destination long before then.

 

Good news comes about 13 months into their trek. They are nearing the end of their journey. The pilot droid has received signal from the _Eclipse_ indicating it is only three day's travelling ahead. Rae's heart swells at the prospect of things to come, and then races as she comes to realize: the hard part is just beginning.

  
===


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I expect to be 100% Jossed by the time Episode VIII comes out, but pffff miss me with that "canon" shiz, Grand Admiral Sloane deserves her Empire so I'm giving it to her! This small fic idea has gotten completely away from me but oh well... I just love this vicious space villain and am apparently incapable of shutting up about it!
> 
> tw: gratuitous abuse of grammatical tense in the English language.

===

The years have passed and her Empire grows. Their progress has been slow, but steady. What few resources they began with, both human and material, have been shaped by hardship and necessity into perfected weapons and armor capable of enduring the most demanding of challenges. Nothing less would suffice out here.

Still, she frowns as she peers out the viewport into deep space, it's not enough. They need more. More resources, more ships, more bodies.

The First Order, as Sloane has taken to calling her fledgling Empire after something off-hand she'd once said to Brendol that happened to stick, has made a few strong footholds in numerous systems in the Unknown Regions. Sometimes it's easy, but more often it's not. It's complicated.

She'd decided that the speciesism of the old Empire could not continue. Not that she had any particular fondness for alien races; there were simply not enough bodies here to construct an Order of humans alone. They would take what they could get for now.

It's difficult to say how inhabitants of planets that have never made contact with either the Galactic Empire or the former Republic will react to newcomers in their territory. Some are impressed, some intimidated, and occasionally some are even worshipful of the First Order's technological might, their giant ships and droids.

Communication can be an issue, as not even the most advanced of droids can offer translation services for truly unknown civilizations, but over these past few years, the First Order has developed many skills sets out of pure necessity, xenolinguistics being one of them. Cartography, agriculture, navigation-- these are other skills they've had to hone to survive. It's not always training and weapons development, though these are also core programs in her Empire. Sometimes the planets they reach are hostile, after all.

Grand Admiral Sloane now strides across the bridge with her hands clasped behind her back, her boots clacking sharply on the polished floor. She's just finished a long briefing with her captains about one such hostile planet that they've recently managed to subdue. She's sending them on an important mission planetside tomorrow to oversee a power transition from an isolationist warlord to a leader who understands and sympathizes with the First Order's goals on a grander scale. She expects their difficulties will soon come to an end. She's sending her captains on this two-week mission to ensure as much, anyway.

Though still small, her new Empire is stable, sound, formidable, and she runs it like a well-oiled machine. She'd decided from the start, in those final days spent aboard the _Imperialis_ , that upon convening with whatever battered remnants of the Empire awaited them, she could take no chances: she was simply going to seize the command that belonged to her and her alone, to force her way in and back down for nothing. The slightest show of weakness, of indecision, she knew, would ruin her chances completely, forever.

With the old Empire in ashes, a new one was set to rise. Undoubtedly, she would not be the only one keen to lead it, and certainly she would not be the only one who tried. But she would be the only one to succeed, she had told herself. She must be. She needed to march in, making demands and not taking no for an answer. And with steel in her spine, bronze in her voice, that is precisely what she did.

In the last few days aboard the _Imperialis_ , she'd lain the ground work for her takeover. First, information: a solid case, non-negotiable, presenting the facts, her experience, her solid record. She prepared what she would say, composed infograms of what she had learned from her diligent studies of the data logs and Imperial archives. She wouldn't lie about having been the one who murdered Counselor Rax. Surely, the waiting others would be expecting him to disembark from the _Imperialis_ , not her, but she decided she would not hide the fact that she had been the one to end his life. Honesty and transparency would be paramount.

And Brendol already knew the truth of it anyway. He had continued to stay out of her way throughout the journey, but she wondered if she could count on him when they arrived. Would he continue to defer to her, or would he betray her, hanging his hopes on the unlikely event that the unknown others would accept him as one of them? There was no point in asking him: if he was planning to betray her, he wouldn't admit it to her yet anyway, and forcing his hand now would only lead to a worse betrayal down the line. If he was going to follow her, truly, he would do so without having been asked or commanded to. It would have to be up to him. She didn't ask.

She did consider, though, if it would be better to simply kill him here, denying him the chance to later betray her, but in the end she found that she did not want to disembark from the _Imperialis_ alone as the only surviving adult, met by who knew what. Brendol himself didn't know. Besides, he had been teaching his son as promised, and she knew that Armitage's command skills were improving under his tutelage. She still had hopes for that boy and his army of soldiers and wanted them as well-trained as possible, especially if there was to be a fight. Offing Brendol now would be pointless at best, at worst, counter-productive. (And if it really came down to it, Sloane knew the boy would side with her before his father, every time. That made her smile.)

So she would wait and see. It was the Brentin Wexley situation all over again. She hoped that this uneasy alliance would work out just as well.

When they finally rendezvoused with the _Eclipse_ , Sloane had been the first to disembark, followed closely by Brendol. Armitage and the other children-- soldiers, whatever-- waited at the top of the yacht's ramp to see what would transpire. She didn't want to start off with a heavy handed approach, but it gave her comfort knowing they were there if needed, like the blaster she kept tucked at her side.

Luckily, force had not been necessary. They were greeted by a young petty officer flanked by thick-framed man who seemed suspicious when Gallius Rax did not appear. Sloane paused. She remembered this man from a very long time ago. General Abus. She didn't like him. He'd scowled when Sloane had been made captain of the _Ultimatum_ , and here again was he, scowling as she descended from the ramp of the _Imperialis_. Did he remember her? She certainly remembered his sneering disdain for those who didn't come from high-borne Imperial families. He was of the type who believed the only legitimate Imperials were those born and bred from within the system. He had not come from a particularly powerful family himself, but as he ascended to higher and higher ranks, that was almost his reason for looking down on anyone lower. An ignorance-bred tendency to climb the ladder and pull it up behind you so that no one else gets what you got-- she'd seen that trait in people before. It's never a pretty thing.

"Where is Counselor Rax?" He'd said when they disembarked. "This is the _Imperialis_ , is it not? He was to be on this ship. He's the one who sent out the coordinates to meet us here."

“Call a meeting with all senior officers,” Sloane told him. “I will explain what has happened.”

He gave her a leery eye but nodded to his petty officer. Soon they were ushered up to the conference hall where a meeting was called. About two dozen officers of various ranks and positions arranged themselves around a large table, waiting to hear what Sloane had to say. She would tell them, she promised. Everything. But first, she wanted to know about them, their operations here.

They came on Star Destroyers, ones that had mysteriously disappeared from Imperial records just before or just after the battle of Endor. _These must be the missing ships I read about while researching Rax_ , she realized. There were more survivors than she would have guessed, and apparently more ships were still in transit from Jakku-- likely some with personnel she would have worked directly with before. Whether that would work in her favor or not, she had yet to find out.

Some of these Star Destroyers had been out here for over a year already, waiting for any news of what was happening back in the known galaxy, waiting for direction. For a leader. Some were growing desperate, others, delusional.

“Is there truth to the rumors that Palpatine and Vader have fallen?” One asked.

Another groaned audibly, rolling his eyes. “Will you stop with this nonsense already? Their deaths have been confirmed on multiple occasions by various sources. They perished along with the second Death Star over two years ago. You waste your time, and that of everyone here, asking stupid questions like this,” he snapped. Sloane liked this man already.

The first spoke again. “ _Allegedly_ perished. But then where is Gallius Rax? _If_ the rumors are true, Rax was to be the next in succession, was he not? Our ship received these coordinates from him.”

This was it, she decided, it was time to fill them in on what had transpired and what would happen next.

_Mine to take._

She took one glance over at Brendol and stood.

"By my hand, Counselor Rax is dead." She had declared, launching immediately into her speech with this attention-grabbing start. She paused to gauge the reactions of the dozen or so others who gather round the table. It was as she'd expected: surprise and disbelief. She presented them with the bloody swatch of his cape. "And with him, the last remnants of the failed Empire, defeated not by a superior Republic, but by Rax's own deceit and duplicity." The murmurs around the table were growing louder, but while they were distracted by this shocking news, now was the time to declare herself leader. "However, all is not lost. We won't be down for long. Our task now is to rebuild from the ashes and retake what once was ours-- what will _again_ be ours-- and establish a new, stronger Empire based on the principles of law and order. We will begin here, today, in these Unknown Regions. We don't know the civilizations that lie here, and they don't know us, but in time, they will come to know us as the sole jurisdiction of unity and rule in the galaxy and we will know them as subjects and allies, committed to helping us retake the galaxy from the treacherous Republic. Let's get to work by---"

Someone interrupted her: "And who do you think you are, barking orders as if you've suddenly ascended the throne?"

She turned slowly to face the speaker. General Abus. _Of course_. She'd never liked him and she didn't have to guess-- she knew the feeling was mutual.

The fury building inside her, latent after far too long in mundane transit boiled her blood. A brief fantasy of leaping across the table to rip his tongue out with her bare hands flashed through her mind. He had disparaged her for the last time. Her fingers curled into fists. But, no, she wouldn't give in to her temper so easily. It would be unbecoming of a new emperor.

She pushed the vision from her thoughts and took a steadying breath through her nose. “As many of you know," she said pointedly, taking back the upper hand. "I am Grand Admiral Rae Sloane.” She turned back to Abus. “I believe you and I were acquainted when I became captain of the _Ultimatum_ , General Abus. And if I recall correctly, General, you were also against my promotion at that time. And yet your protests did not stop me from performing my duties to the Empire, nor from continuing to rise through the ranks to where I stand before you today.”

She watched the color rise in his cheeks. He cleared his throat. "Ah, yes. The young, tenacious Rae Sloane. Presumptuous as ever, I see." He sneered. “You think just because our rightful leaders are dead that you're somehow entitled to the throne?”

“I'm not asking for a throne, Abus,” she snapped. “I'm asking for-- no, I'm _taking_ charge of a new Empire.” This, as she expected, drew a few raised eyebrows and murmurs from the group. She pressed on. “After the deaths of Palpatine and Lord Vader, the Galactic Empire found itself without a leader. Counselor Rax established a shadow council in that vacuum with me at the head, though that was in name only. Behind me, it was Rax pulling the strings. But with his death, the charge now falls back to me. Not just in name, but in practice as well.”

Someone else piped up. Another one Sloane recognized: a young former-minister by the name of Amari Goremeci. “But Counselor Rax is dead at your hand, did you not say so yourself, Grand Admiral?”

Sloane had expected this to be the hardest part of the sale. Many here likely considered his assassination treasonous and she needed them to know that was not the case. Luckily, Goremeci's tone hadn't been accusatory; that was just how she was-- sharp, thoughtful, unbiased. Someone who wanted to see all of the information before making a decision. Sloane could work with that. “That is correct. For a time, I was satisfied working in Rax's name. It took me too long to understand his ulterior motives: to destroy the last remnants of the Empire from within and replace them with puppets. He wanted a cult, not a government. How many among you ever knew him personally? Those who received orders from him, was it direct in person or through secrets and whispers?” Silence. As she thought. “Unbeknownst to us, one by one, he was eliminating the other members of his own council until Hux and I were the only ones left. And he would have gotten to us, no doubt, had I not got to him first. I did what had to be done for the Empire. To let him take charge and reign over the galaxy through fear and terror, savagery, it would be no more acceptable than the chaos uncontrolled by the illegitimate New Republic.”

Goremeci sat back, looking satisfied, or at least contemplative, but Abus was indignant. “You speak of chaos, yet where are you from again, Sloane?” He said, looking overly pleased with himself. “Ganthel, if I am not mistaken? A rather rough planet, that. And one affiliated with the New Republic, isn't that right?”

“Ganthel was, yes,” she conceded through grit teeth, making a concentrated effort not to pay heed to the looks shared across the table from the other members who support she still needed to gain. This was a ploy to distract from the actual issues at hand. He was a master at that. “But as everyone here is also aware, I left Ganthel to join the Imperial Naval Academy and have never looked back. My exemplary service record shows--”

“So you used the Empire to further your own career goals, congratulations.” Abus interrupted with a dismissive wave of hand. “The fact still stands: you have no ties to the Empire. Not on your mother's side, not on your father's, you never even married into an Imperial family or reared children to serve the Empire you claim to love! Where is the real proof of your loyalty? Oh, aside from your murdering of Counselor Rax, of course.”

She was going to do it. She was going to leap across this table and strangle him. _Five, four, three..._

“Grand Admiral Sloane has more tried experience than half of this table combined.” Brendol Hux said suddenly, rising, to her massive surprise. Her bloodlust was momentarily forgotten. “And if her dedication to the cause had ever wavered, she wouldn't be standing here before you today. She could have taken the _Imperialis_ and disappeared, leaving the lot of you out here to fend for yourselves. If anyone is fit to lead us into this new era, it's her.” He looked at her then and it froze her blood. This man hated her. She hated this man. And yet here he was, coming to her defense before the very people who could swiftly rid him of her.

“And who are you?” Abus sneered.

“Commandant Brendol Hux. I led the Imperial training academy on Arkanis before the siege. After, I was hand-selected by Counselor Rax himself as a member of his shadow council to oversee training for a new generation of super soldiers. Under Rax's guidance, we have produced exceptional results. I will be more than happy to lead a demonstration, should it come to that, but let us hope it doesn't have to.”

“Is that a threat, Commandant?”

“No, of course not,” Hux said with a wave of his hand. “You merely asked who I was, and I'm giving you my credentials. I have been travelling with Admiral Sloane through the depths of space for the last 13 months. I suspect I'm not the only one among us who had time to do some thinking on that long journey here. She and I have had our differences, believe me, but trust when I say: she speaks the truth. Rax was duplicitous and conniving. No one knows that better than those of us who worked closely with him for so long. He was secretive. Sloane is direct, she says it outright. There are no games and deception with her as there was with Rax. And in this new era where we know nothing of our new home, that kind of straightforward honesty is the foundation we need to build upon.”

This drew a few murmurs from the group. Sloane herself was shocked into silence. Perhaps their time spent avoiding each other on the _Imperialis_ had somehow softened him to her. Or perhaps it was simply good strategy: better the devil you know. Perhaps he was also still afraid of her. If that were the case, good. She tipped her head in his direction ever so slightly, hoping this was not a setup for a later betrayal.

He sat and Goremeci spoke again, reading Sloane's service record and achievements aloud from her datapad, but Rae was distracted in trying to puzzle out Hux's motivations here. She had hardly spoken to him at all in those months of travel, what had changed his mind so dramatically? There was something she was missing there.

The no-nonsense man who had snapped at the Palpatine's-death-conspiracy-theorist from earlier rose, looking exceptionally tired now, and Sloane's attention refocused. "I believe the matter is settled. Palpatine and Vader are gone. The mysterious Rax is also deceased. There is no use denying these facts. Now Grand Admiral Sloane is the rightful heir and our best option. That much is clear. Her credentials are qualification enough. Let us move on to the next--"

"No!" Abus shouted, smacking his hands on the table as he stood. “It would be a disgrace to the legacy of the glorious Emperor Palpatine to select someone born outside his Empire to lead it into the next era. Especially someone who has flat out admitted to the murder of a fellow Imperial loyalist. We should be investigating--”

"That Empire is dead, Abus," said the no-nonsense man whose name Rae made a point to learn later. "And unless you plan to join it in the afterlife, I suggest you get used to this. We're beyond the reaches of known space now, wasting time in this way is the quickest way to death for all of us. We need a leader and out here, petty things like lineage will do no good against actual hard skills. And when it comes to those," He nodded in her direction. “Glory be to Grand Admiral Sloane.”

“No.” She said calmly, straightening. This was her moment: “Glory goes to the Empire."

_My Empire._

A round of 'hear-hear' broke out from most at the table. Notably, Abus sat back quietly fuming. Sloane declared that a short recess would be in order before the next plans could be laid out and the others nodded. Abus was the first to spring up and head out the door. She sat and as the others rose to leave, Sloane grabbed Hux by the sleeve. “Wait.”

He inclined his head and stood waiting as the rest filed out of the meeting room.

“You hated me,” she said once they were alone, swivelling her chair around to face him directly. “What changed?”

“I read up on you while we were travelling,” he said, not quite looking at her. “An impressive record, I must admit. I had been wrong to underestimate you before. A mistake I will not be making twice.”

She sat back and narrowed her eyes. “Surely that can't be all it took?”

“No,” he conceded after a long pause. “I had a lot of time for thinking while we were travelling through space, not knowing if we'd ever reach or destination, or if there even was one. But I kept coming back to one question.”

“Which was?”

“Why did Gallius Rax leave those orphan soldiers in the hands of my son? After all, it had been I who trained them. I who had designed the very program itself. For Rax, no less! I had led the Imperial Academy on Arkanis, for star's sake! Then why, behind my back, would Rax go and make it so that my supersoldiers listen not to me, but to Armitage?”

Sloane considered the question. Truth be told, it wasn't one she had considered before, nor one she had an answer to now. She waited for him to continue.

“I figured. Well.” Hux cleared his throat and straightened, finally looking at her. “Let's just say you were right when you accused me of hurting that boy. I hated that he reminded me of my own failure. Weakness. On more than one occasion, I admit I laid a heavy hand on him in hopes that it would toughen him up. It makes sense, then, that the boy would want to take his revenge on me eventually, doesn't it? But a scrawny little kid like that? He couldn't do it himself. I suspect that Rax knew that as well and gave him charge of those kids hoping that one day he would command them to get rid of me, keeping Rax's own hands clean.” Sloane listened in silence, processing this information as best she could. “Anyway,” Hux continued. “You setting me straight might have been the only thing that kept me alive to this point. And for that, you have my support and my gratitude.”

Her eyebrows arched. “Well then,” she said, feeling slightly overwhelmed. “I thank you for your support, Commandant. I will be looking forward to working with you in the future to come.”

“Yes, Grand Admiral. I am at your service.”

She nodded. “Dismissed.”

He nodded and went. She palmed her face.

This new information troubled her. Just how deep had Rax's plans gone? How far had his infection spread? She had already decided that her Empire would not emulate the one whose ashes it had risen from. Neither Palpatine's nor Rax's vision of power suited her. Though she would lead without having to pander to the peripheral side interests of lobbyists and corruptible senators whose votes she'd need to support her will in a democracy, she didn't want mindless followers only offering empty acceptance of her every whim either; she wanted people around her whose wisdom and counsel she could count on to make her Empire stronger, better.

And, indeed, her Empire would not be run on lies and deceit. She would not encourage rivalries to distract from her overarching goal; she would appoint the right people to where they best fit, matching skill to need. It was her hope, naïve though it seemed, that if she could keep her crew satisfied with purpose suited to their individual talents, busy feeling useful, then they would have little reason to betray her later. They _were_ all in this together, weren't they?

Brendol Hux was not a nice man, that much was clear. But he had his uses. He had mentioned his training academy. That was his talent, and surely they would need it to raise the next generation of Imperials. Sorted. The much-hatred propaganda minister Ferric Obdur didn't seem to make it to the Unknown Regions. Good. Reflective and pensive Amari Goremeci would do fine. She liked that no-nonsense tired-looking man, too. As for the rest of them, she would get to know them better in time. She wanted it known that her Order would be built on the principles of loyalty, and those who remained faithful would be rewarded.

Soon enough, the recess was over and they were back at work. It was a long discussion, but she was pleased by what small progress they had made by the end of it, and her crew seemed satisfied with the roles and tasks they had been assigned.

Their forces may be small, battered, and weakened, but Sloane trusted she had what it took to forge them into strength again. Working without the roadblocks and bureaucracy of a democratic system would make it quicker, easier, more efficient.

“That will be enough for today,” Sloane said, ending the meeting after several hours. “It's been a long time since I've had any sort of lengthy interactions such as this and it's worn me out for the day. I suspect many of you must feel the same,” she said, looking pointedly at the tired-looking man, whose name she learned was Edridge, an engineer and strategist. He nodded emphatically. “Very well then,” she rose. “Who will show me to my quarters? Brendol Hux and his son will also need accommodation.”

“I can show you to your rooms,” General Abus said, standing. It was his first real contribution since being shut down at the start of the meeting and she eyed him warily before nodding. She knew he had always been a slithering worm, trying to charm or buy his way through the ranks, but while that may have worked for far too many in the Empire or the Republic, it wouldn't work in her governance.

“I would appreciate that.”

The meeting was adjourned and Sloane and Hux followed after Abus, stopping briefly in a room across the hall to retrieve Armitage, who had been playing around with a Dejarik holoboard, clearly unaware of the rules. A stray thought crossed Sloane's mind to teach him. Later. There was still much work to be done first.

The four made their way up several levels and down another corridor to the executive wing of the _Eclipse_.

“This was where Counselor Rax was to be housed,” Abus said, stopping in front of the last door. “But I suppose that these quarters now belong to you, Admiral Sloane.”

“And my travel companions?”

“The children you had onboard the _Imperialis_ will be bunked together on the training floor, which is just one level below this. The boy and his father have a room waiting for them on the other end of this ship.”

Sloane regarded him coolly for a moment before responding. “No, these two will be housed in this wing as well.”

Part of this declaration was simply a power play to further vex this man, but after so many months spent in all-too-close proximity to the Huxes, Sloane was surprised to find that she genuinely wanted to keep them near. It was also simply good strategy; if Brendol had meant it when he pledged his loyalty to her, then it was better to keep him close. All the more so if he was being deceitful. And beyond that, Armitage still held the reigns of that orphan army and those children could be the difference between life and death out here in uncharted territory. She suspected the boy already had some level of attachment to her, and she did not intend to let that go to waste now.

“Admiral,” Abus said, leaning in to speak quieter. “Grand Admiral.” He corrected, looking displeased for saying it, which made the corner of her mouth quirk upwards. She'd decide on a more appropriate title later. “This wing is for people of...” he peered disdainfully at the Huxes before returning his attention to Sloane. “A certain status.”

“Whatever you believe that is, General, I assure you I don't care. They have come with me from Jakku and as such are my most trusted advisers at this moment. I will have them close by.”

Abus looked away and back again, frowning. "With all due respect, ma'am--"

"I am Grand Admiral Rae Sloane. If you were giving me 'all due respect', Abus, you would not be standing there arguing with me. Now see to it that they have their own rooms. Here. Now."

His upper lip curled. “As you wish, Grand Admiral. The room just across from yours is empty. It was being reserved for the honorable Fleet Admiral Yalla when his ship arrives, but I suppose you will be happy to explain to him why his room has been given to,” he looked to the Huxes again in unmasked distaste. “Them.”

She shrugged. “Of course. It will be allocated as such because I commanded it to be,” she says. “And furthermore, General.” Her shoulders drew back. She tipped her chin up so that when she looked at Abus, she was glaring down her nose at him. “I said _rooms_. The boy will have his own.”

Abus laughed softly, spreading his hands as if the matter was something out of his control. “This is the only spare room left on this wing, Grand Admiral. A full sized room for a mere child? I'm afraid we simply do not have space aboard the _Eclipse_ for such luxuries.”

She didn't miss a beat. “Let me guess. Your room is in this wing, is it not?”

“I-- yes, it is.” His eyes narrowed, no doubt seeing where she was going with this.

“Then I suggest that you pack your things,” she said, her tone even yet deadly, “because your room has been reassigned.”

Beside her, Armitage's eyes widened and he sucked in a quiet breath. He otherwise remained still at her side as Abus sneered down at him. Sloane turned to Brendol and flicked her eyes towards the room across the hall. He took the hint and disappeared into his new room assignment without a word.

“Come, Armitage, you can stay with me while General Abus clears his belongings from your room.” Sloane said then, not taking her fixed stare from Abus as she entered her room, leaving him there, fuming. Armitage hurried after her, keeping one eye on Abus as he did.  
\--

She removes her glove and presses her palm to the sensor of her quarters now. The doors slide open and she steps inside, tired after that long pre-mission meeting and glad to be home. As she strips off her boots in the antechamber, she realizes that there are already another pair of black standard issue boots lined up toe-first against the wall. Sized to fit a small adult or a tall child. _Armitage_.

She looks up to find him standing there holding a steaming mug of caf out for her. She sighs internally. Though his room is not far--in fact, it is the one just adjacent to hers-- it's not often now that he turns up unannounced. But every time he does, it's to ask a favor or permission for something she rarely wants to grant (though quite often does anyway).

She knows what he will ask tonight. She pays him little mind as she hangs her greatcoat on the wall hook and takes time to run a hand over her hair when she removes her command cap, steeling herself for the conversation she hasn't decided if she's ready to have.

"At ease," she tells him as she walks past, taking the mug from his outstretched hands. He follows after her in stride, not seeming to ever know the meaning of 'ease'.

She goes into the drawing room and takes a seat on the couch. Armitage comes and stands before her, one hand closed into a fist and pressed against his chest, the other hanging stiffly at his side. She can tell the boy is about ready to burst with his yet-unasked question.

"I believe you know what I'm here to ask, Leader Sloane." He says.

She sighs and readies herself for it. "I believe I do, Armitage. Out with it already, you know I'm no fan of small talk."

He swallows and sets his jaw, looking ever less like a child and more like a young man everyday. "Have you made a decision?" He asks, trying but failing to keep that eager quiver out of his voice.

She closes her eyes and exhales into her cup as she settles back into the couch.

All week she has been debating if she will send Armitage on this mission as well. He's been pestering her for months now to let him take on more responsibility. He's been a party to certain diplomatic missions before, but never in a responsibility-wielding role, and never without Sloane herself present. This mission is scheduled to last two weeks. Sloane doesn't have two weeks to spare for it. She won't be going. He knows that. He wants to go on this mission without her.

She gets it. He's nearly twelve now and eager to prove how grown up he is. She herself had tried running away from home at a similar age, wanting more out of life than a hard, meaningless industrial yard job on a destitute planet, just waiting for death. She knows that ambitious minds like his will find their own way to be satiated if they are otherwise denied the opportunity.

But it's a risk. She knows she can't protect him forever. Shouldn't even have this impulse to do so. He's not her child. He's her subordinate, a junior officer in the making. The choice should be obvious: he goes. He gets the experience, good or bad. But she worries. They've had conflicts with this tribe before, under the last regime. Sabotaged negotiations. Thirteen troopers killed. The Order doesn't have resources to squander like that, especially not bright young minds like that of Armitage. She doesn't expect there will be any sort of armed conflict this time, and even if there is, she knows her captains will have the upper hand, but. Still. The boy is yet untested. It's better to be safe than sorry.

And she likes him safe. He's got a strong sense of self-discipline that has never wavered in these six years since Jakku. It had been a hard transition for the best of them, but Armitage had taken it in stride. She supposed by the time he was on Jakku, the boy had seen enough upheavals in his few meager years that this was just another thing to him. But still he seemed particularly appreciative that she kept him abreast of what was happening. No one else ever had, he told her.

The bastard son of a largely irrelevant Imperial officer whom few liked. Whereas such a thing would have easily ruined any career ambitions the boy may have had under the old Empire, and surely amongst voters in a democracy, Sloane puts no weight on heredity. She'd seen the potential in Armitage early. Recognized that he has a good head on his shoulders, despite his unfortunate parentage. And the First Order is about loyalty, not nepotism.

And, honestly, who has ever been more loyal to her than Armitage Hux? Throughout the years, Sloane has tried to maintain some influence in his life-- not as a parental figure, stars-forbid, but as an ally, a mentor, and a commanding officer who values exacting precision over savagery and planned ambition over guerrilla terror. She likes to believe it serves him well. She's watched him learn to command his soldiers with all the unrelenting ruthless ferocity of his father, and how his minions obey him unquestioningly. And yet never once has he issued a command that would put her or her interests in harm's way.

Just the opposite, in fact...

\----  
“Grand Admiral?” Armitage had said as Rae lead him down the corridor to his new room once Abus had vacated it and a droid had brought them their few possessions.

“Yes, Armitage?” She replied, not breaking pace nor looking back at him as she marched down the corridor.

“Do you think that man is going to hurt you?”

Sloane pressed her lips. “I suspect he may try, but I do not expect that he will succeed.”

“If he does try,” Armitage said, “I can have my fighters take him down. They will protect you. I will command them to.”

She did spare him a backwards glance then, and a soft smile. “I don't know if that will be necessary, but thank you, Armitage. You keep training them, just in case.”

He stopped following after her then, standing stiff and offering a salute. “Yes, Grand Admiral.”

In fact, she thought, it could very well be necessary. She didn't want to worry him too much just yet, though, still somewhat uncomfortable with the idea of these child soldiers. But they existed, whether she liked the idea of it or not, and did it not then, therefore, make sense for her to employ them if need be? It did, she decided. And she would. But not merely to instill fear in her crew over petty matters, only as a defense to protect herself against those who would try to outseat her in these early days of near-anarchy. Here's hoping it wouldn't come to that.

Unfortunately, just weeks later, it had come to that.

Restless with grandiose plans for the new Order, she was pacing the lower deck of the _Eclipse_. It was the third shift and most of the other crew were asleep already. She had thought she was alone to think in peace. And then, suddenly, an unknown assailant slipped out from behind a durasteel beam and clasped a gauze-wrapped hand over her nose and mouth. Some sort of chemical agent-- it burned her throat and immobilized her limbs. Her mind grew foggy. _No..._ She struggled against her attacker whose grip only tightened as she began to fade out of consciousness. A whisper in her ear: "The Empire does not belong to low-class Republic-borne scum like you." _Abus._ “I would sooner die than see it in your hands.” And, somewhat ironically, those were his last words.

He shouted and Sloane felt his hold on her slacken. He dropped to the floor and she gasped for clean air, spinning on her heel to see what fresh horror awaited her next. Vision still burring, she seized the blaster at her belt and pointed it shakily at... nothing? No one? She blinked. No, not nothing, she was just aiming too high. Standing a solid foot below where she'd aimed was a thin, dark haired boy with pale skin, holding a long-blade knife and covered in blood. He was giving her an empty stare.

“You.” She said, her throat raw. She recognized him as one of Armitage's soldiers.

She lowered her weapon.

"Did Armitage send you?" The boy continued to stare wordlessly. It tried her frayed patience. "I am the Leader of the First Order, you will answer me when I ask you a question."

"I will protect Grand Admiral Rae Sloane. Master Hux commanded it so." The boy said, as impersonal as a droid.

Well, that answered the question anyway. "So you followed me."

Again, no response. She supposed it would do no good to dismiss him or thank him, so she didn't. She simply stepped over Abus' dead body, the blood pooling on the floor, and brushed past the boy, who turned to keep his gaze fixed on her as she marched back to her quarters. Feeling keyed up and wary, even after three glasses of scotch, she didn't sleep much that night.

At the start of the next shift cycle, she'd summoned Armitage to her room for questioning. She was furious. Why didn't he tell her he was assigning that boy as security detail? How long had he been following her? What else wasn't he telling her?

Armitage hadn't understood her anger at first. His eyes had teared up-- something that once happened with great frequency but had since become practically unheard of-- and he apologized. Tears had streamed down his pink cheeks as he tried to explain. Yes, he admitted to sending that boy out, but it wasn't Rae that boy was following; it was Abus. There wasn't anything else he was hiding from her, honestly. He sniffed, keeping his arms locked at his sides, saying he was sorry, so sorry. “I only meant to protect you, and your Empire.”

Rae sighed, rising from her desk and went to him. She crouched down to face him eye-level and he looked away, ashamed. His entire body trembled.

She reached up to his cheeks and he flinched as if expecting to be struck. With her thumbs, she brushed the fresh tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.

“Stop crying,” she instructed, more gently than she knew she was capable of. He sniffed again. He looked so pitiful like that, wet-eyed, red-nosed.

Against her better instincts, she put her arms around him and drew him close into a stiff embrace. "Thank you, Armitage." His breathing stuttered and he put his shaking, tiny hands on her back, burying his face in her shoulder. "You did a good thing. Your good instincts are the reason I'm still alive." She gave it a moment then pulled back. "All I'm asking is that you tell me about these things next time. These are things I need to know, do you understand?”

He nodded and said that he did.

“Good. Now, go clean up, we've got work to do.”

She watched him turn to go, hearing his words in her head. _I only meant to protect you, and your Empire._  
\----

She likes him. And though she doesn't want to, she finds that she trusts him.

But she had trusted another young protégée once, too. Adea Rite. There was a time she had allowed herself to think of Adea as the daughter she could have had in a different life. But Adea had double crossed her. Had tried to assassinate her. And Adea had been so smart, so sweet.

Armitage is smart, but not sweet. He is also not her child. _He's not Adea, either..._

She sips the caf he's made for her as he stands watching, his bright eyes fixing her with an imploring look no eleven-year-old should be so good at. Maximum caffeination, no syrup, no milk. The way he learned she takes it. Definitely smart. Perhaps he's his own brand of sweet, too.

That's it, she decides then and there: she will send him on this mission. It will be a good way to expose him to the more nuanced parts of commandership without putting him in excessive danger. Some of her captains may balk at this decision to send this 11-year-old child with them, but she runs this Order on efficiency, not populism. He goes. They deal.

She uncrosses her legs and sets the mug down on the table as he stands before her, stiff as a board. She can feel his anxiety radiating off of him though he tries so hard to keep it contained.

“Armitage Hux," she says he straightens even further. "I am sending you on this mission.”

He exhales and smiles. "Really?!" His eyes are bright and wide, just a touch too excited, though he's quick to bring himself back under control.

"Yes, your first official posting. You're old enough now, it's about time you start getting used to doing real work, something with purpose. You will be representing the First Order now, I expect you to be nothing less than professional."

"Of course, Leader Sloane." Armitage nods, schooling his expression into something neutral. "I shall not disappoint you, nor the Order."

"Good." She tips her chin up. “And I want you to take Zips along with you.”

He frowns. “But she's your bodyguard.”

“I'll be fine here,” she says, reaching out to take his hand in hers. She knows Zips is his best fighter, so she wants her there on guard in case anything goes wrong, but she doesn't say as much to Armitage. She knows he wouldn't like the thought of her worrying about him. Frankly, she doesn't like the thought of worrying this much over him, either, but that's another matter. She lets his hand drop. “The rest of your soldiers are still aboard the _Eclipse_ , are they not?”

“Yes. I can have Tatts watch out for you.”

She nodded. “Deal. Now get going back to your quarters and sleep. You and Zips will join the captains at launch bay 43 at 0700 hours. I'll provide you a proper briefing for you to read in transit tomorrow. morning”

"Yes, Leader Sloane! Thank you. I will not disappoint you!" He salutes her and leaves quickly, failing miserably to suppress a grin. She'll let one that slide. This time.

She is up for several hours after Armitage leaves, drafting him a mission briefing, complete with instructions on what was expected of him and how he was to behave. For this mission, she is bestowing him the rank of ensign. It's not entirely official, and the Order's ranking system still has some irregularities that need to be ironed out, but she figures he can take this for now and work up from there. She finds him capable and she's not concerned with him acting out, but it's a delicate balance of giving him work to do while not stepping on the toes of the others on his mission. This was somewhat of a last-minute decision, after all. She assigns him a few daily tasks, mostly observatory in nature, and instructs that he always keep Zips nearby. She writes that this is to develop his experience in leading troops on a mission, though really, she is more concerned about keeping him safe while she's not there to watch out for him.

She makes a few last notes and uploads the briefing to a datastick which she plans to give him in the morning and then retires for the night.

Though now thoroughly exhausted, she has trouble falling asleep. Her mind is not quiet.

He is not her child. He's an ensign of the First Order, she his commanding officer. She has no children, no spouse, and that life is closed off to her. And yet, to see that boy growing up and eager to become his own person fills her with conflicting emotions. Pride, for one, knowing that she's helping shape him into a one damn fine commander, a perfect right-hand man when he comes of age. Perhaps even successor, one day. But along with the celebration of his increasing independence is also a kind of nostalgic sadness.

Soon he will be a fully-fledged member of their military. They won't have time for casual Dejarik games or planetside day trips for small rewards. And she knows that with every mission he goes on from here on out, every command he will issue, pieces of his innocence are stripped away. He's becoming a young man. He never got to have a childhood. And she never expected to lament something like that. That she feels this way now confounds her. Perhaps just because she didn't have much of one herself, though she's rarely allowed herself time to lament _that_ , either.

She sighs and turns over. Her experiences on Jakku changed her, she thinks, or perhaps she's just getting soft in her old age. Old. Ha. She's barely past 50, still has many long years of rule ahead of her. What happens tomorrow and in the following two weeks is just another standard operation of the First Order. She wouldn't be where she is today if her life on Ganthel had been easy. Armitage won't become a man worthy of serving at her side if he is not tried and tested, allowed to grow.

She closes her eyes and falls asleep. She does not dream.

===


	3. Chapter 3

===

 

“It's okay, I suppose.” Armitage shrugs, listless. “But it's cold and I don't like the food here.”

She quirks a smile. He's only four days into his first-ever mission and already bored out of his mind, cold, and apparently not eating much. “Well, you'll be back soon enough. And maybe if my captains report satisfaction with your behavior on this mission, you may find yourself with a treat waiting for you when you return.”

“Really?” He grins, mostly with his eyes. He has a special fondness for a certain kind of ice dessert made from the pink fruit of plant endemic to the outer galaxy. Sometimes when he's all dressed up in his uniform and formalities, it's easy to forget he's just a child. But other times, when he's excited over the possibility of being rewarded with sweets, it's hard to think of him as part of her militia.

"I said maybe," she replies, fixing him with a mock stern look.

He's already smiling, though, eyes bright. “Yes, ma'am.”

She nods. “All right, Ensign, upload your preliminary report to my Drive and check in with me again in another four standard days.”

“Yes, Leader Sloane.” He salutes. Posture perfect, even on a holocall. She feels that same sense of pride she did when she watched him board the shuttle with the others four days ago, his uniform pressed, his booted shined. That morning had arrived sooner than she was ready for, even after spending half the night convincing herself that it meant nothing. And yet there she'd stood, watching with nervous apprehension as he ascended the ramp. Perhaps she should go with them after all, just to make sure he would be watched out for. Her captains would be there, of course, but would they step in to protect him the way she would? At the top of the ramp he had turned back and caught her eye. Her heart surged with conflicting emotions. She almost thought to call him back, to cancel his deployment. But he didn't wave, simply gave the proper salute before disappearing into the shuttle, and it was then that she knew she had made the right choice.

She wants to reach over and run a hand through his bright orange hair. Strange color, that. For a strange boy. And even stranger still, she misses him. She has the strongest urge to tell him as much, but nods once and cuts the feed before she does so, then tosses her datapad aside.

It'll be another four days before their next conference, but she's less worried now. Seeing him healthy, if bored, has soothed her frayed nerves. Maybe she should have given him more tasks to do, but she didn't want to overdo it. She'll remember that for next time. The boy is old enough now to be tested. And she knows he will succeed. What she needs to do is to stop thinking of him as anything other than a fresh recruit. It makes her feel vulnerable to worry about him this way, and the last thing she needs is another vulnerability.

She pulls her feet up onto the couch and stretches out, trying to ignore that ache in her side.

It had been left too long untreated and the injury would never heal properly. That's what they told her in medbay, five years ago. The pain would never fully subside. The wounds could not be truly repaired. The hurt could not be completely relieved. They did as best they could, they said. _But not good enough_ , she thought.

Anyway, she's just had to learn to deal with it. And, really, it only becomes a hindrance when taking a direct hit, or sometimes when she spends too long on cold, wet planets. One of the reasons she hadn't wanted to go on this mission to Ulaanutsk was the weather.

The last time she had ventured to the surface, after the disaster that had killed thirteen troopers and just before the First Order had instilled their own puppet leader, it had rained the entire week, the temperature hovering freezing so the precipitation came down as icy sleet. Once she had finally gotten back to the _Eclipse_ , she'd been in considerable pain. She'd hid it as best she could, making sure to keep her gait stiff and no one was any the wiser. She'd retreated to her quarters, saying she had data to analyse before making her next move. The doors had barely shut behind her before she grabbed her side, wincing. Four days on that miserable cold bog. That's all it took to cripple her. But she had grit her teeth, determined to bear this pain and forge on, stronger because of it. She'd forced herself to crouch and remove her boots. Then she'd shuffled to the couch, where she promptly collapsed.

And it's hurting again now, even just lying here thinking about it. Perhaps she really isn't so young anymore, a trying life making her natural age seem far more weighty than it would have been had she not spent her youth fighting, struggling, and sustaining such untreatable injuries. Pressing a palm over her face, she groans.

What happened to Norra Wexley, anyway? She wonders this not infrequently. It was that damnable woman who gave her this injury in the first place. And, bizarrely, her husband who'd treated it. What a perfect clusterfuck of a situation that whole thing had been. Funny how it had worked out.

Norra Wexley. Norra fucking Wexley. Probably, hopefully, she made it out of Jakku with her stupid son, went back to the stupid New Republic to get on with her stupid life. Sloane could have killed her. Could have killed her husband, too. But she'd let them go in the end. Well, Norra, anyway. Brentin was already dead. And somehow Sloane lamented that.

 _They saved you_. In her heart, she knows that. But, she reminds herself, they did so not in some selfless act of compassion, but because they needed her help to defeat Rax. Still. Sometimes Rae wonders, also, if Wexley would be receptive to allying again one day, one day in the future when the First Order has grown and comes back to retake the galaxy based on the principles of efficiency and order, not the terror and savagery of Rax's Empire and not the populist chaos of Wexley's New Republic, either.

She likes to believe, though she knows it's highly improbable, that Wexley's time spent briefly in her allyship had perhaps softened her views of the Empire. Once Wexley learned that the way the Empire was operating at that time was an aberration, anyway. Norra's too long been under the propaganda machine of the Rebellion, fed since birth the lies and delusions of the alleged “virtues” of democracy to become an Imperial sympathizer, but maybe, just maybe, she questions her system of beliefs now that she's seen something beyond.

It's unlikely, though. Just because she'd met some half-decent Rebels doesn't mean Sloane has any warm feelings for the New Republic. She's ready to tear it apart the second she has the chance. And she's sure Wexley would sooner put a blaster to her head than ally with her again. Jakku was a special case. Either work together or perish together, there were no other options. It wouldn't be like that again. From here on out, with Sloane as head of the First Order, every interaction between her Empire and the New Republic would be a zero sum game.

That is, if the First Order can ever summon enough resources to grow out of these Unknown Regions.

Sloane rolls onto her good side and grimaces. One step at a time.

 

  
Ten days later, she's sitting on her couch, reading through the post-mission reports on her datapad as Armitage lounges around her quarters, waiting for her to finish the work she'd said she'd be finished with three hours ago. He seems happy to be back, if also slightly restless. She suspects this is because he's already eager to take on more work. She was that way, too, when she had completed her first deployment. It was that first taste of freedom, and of power. Knowing that the only way to get more was to keep doing more. Never allowing time to be lazy.

He'd taken his menial duties very seriously and presented her with his own notes and spreadsheets, none of which were particularly insightful, but this mission really was more of experience than anything else and she appreciated the effort. She skims over his and moves onto those of her head captain. She is pleased to learn that the power transition had been handled smoothly. The new leader of that frost-bitten world had enthusiastically pledged to work with the First Order towards their goals of galactic unity. Apparently he believed that the First Order's arrival had been foretold by the gods, and convinced his followers as much, so riots and protests had been kept to a minimum. Sloane scoffs and rolls her eyes. She puts no stock in the kind of fate that you can't take into your own hands and bend to your will, but if it means more support for the Order gained without resource or human expenditure, she would wield that as just another tool to cement her reigning legitimacy. In turn, she signs off an agreement to dispatch peace-keeping squads should the planet again fall into unrest and reaches for her caf before moving on to the next report.

"What are these, Auntie Rae?"

"You know what those are, Armitage, don't play dumb, it's unbecoming of a future officer." She says without taking her attention far from the datapad before her. She knows he's looking at the old game pieces she'd taken from Rax after defeating him on Jakku. He looks at them often.

Armitage sighs and turns around, frowning. "I _know_ they're game pieces, Imperator and Outcast. And I know how each moves on the board. But what I meant was, _why_ do you have these two? You've had them as long as I've known you, but where did they come from? And where are the rest?"

Rae looks up from her datapad now, removes her glasses and breathes deeply. "I took them from the man I killed on Jakku.” She says plainly.

"Counsellor Rax." Armitage says. He must have known him in some context. Of course he did. One way or another the tentacles of Rax's influence found their way into everyone and everything.

“Yes, Counsellor Rax.”

Armitage looks back at the pieces, considers them, and then comes to sit beside her on the couch.

"How did you kill him?"

"I shot him with a blaster. More than once. And as he lie dying, I told him his Empire belonged to me now. And then I took his game pieces.” She glances over at the pieces on the shelf. “It's symbolic, I suppose."

Armitage smiles. It's a little wicked-looking. Not unlike his father. Unnerving, but she supposes she smiled like that as Rax's blood pooled on the sands of Jakku all those years ago.

"Jakku was a mess, wasn't it?" She says, setting her glasses and datapad aside. He nods, though she knows he's just being agreeable now. “No matter, though. The old Empire is finished and we're here building a new one. With your help, of course. I read the post-mission report you submitted on Ulaanutsk.”

“And?” He says, unashamedly fishing for praise. Brat. He knows when he's done well.

She won't give him that satisfaction so easily. “Not bad.” She shrugs offhandedly and watches him try not to deflate.

His brow knits. “Does that mean I can have an ice cream or not?”

She smiles. “Come on, then.”  


 

Time passes. Still more systems have come under the jurisdiction of the First Order, though progress has plateaued recently. The larger, more important planets in these regions have already pledged their allegiance, populations and resources, to the Order and all that remain out here are smaller, isolated rocks that have thus far not seemed worth the trouble to absorb. There is little left to conquer, and yet still they lack the strength to begin expansion back into the charted galaxy. But it's only a matter of time. She knows it's possible. She can almost taste it. There must be a breaking point.

But while her Empire's advancement stalls, Armitage Hux progresses from Ensign to Lieutenant rather quickly. His requests to join more missions after that first one were met with no objections. Sloane's senior officers said the boy was hardly noticeable anyway, typically kept to himself and his observations. Took care of himself. She was pleased to hear it and encouraged him to keep up the hard work. Each new task she assigns him, he handles with ease and steadfast dedication.

And then suddenly overnight-- or at least that's how it seems to her-- he hits a growth spurt and suddenly now towers several inches over her. And now she swears he's requesting new uniforms every other week, outgrowing them faster than they can be produced. He's still thin as a rail, though, despite having an appetite like a blasted bantha. She tells him as much and he just rolls his eyes and ignores her, turning his attention back to his homework, which he's long been in the habit of doing on her couch while she works at her own desk, trying to find a way to reinvigorate the Order's growth.

She shakes her head at him. Teenagers. Better he immerse himself further into his studies than get distracted by girls, boys, xenomorphs, or whatever it is that will eventually come to take his fancy.

She knows he's of an age now where most adolescents take a new kind of interest in their peers. In fact, he had tried to broach the topic one afternoon a few weeks ago in a clearly rehearsed pseudo-casual way, cheeks flushed and refusing to take his eyes away from the book he'd been pretending to read. She glanced up from her report, peering over the rims of her glasses. He didn't look up. She asked him if there was someone he fancied. He flushed even deeper and shook his head, eyes still fixated on the book he wasn't reading.

“Good.” She'd said. “Caring for someone else leaves you vulnerable. It is a weakness that others will exploit.” She took her glasses off and stared at him, though it was obvious he wasn't going to meet her gaze. “You can't help how you feel for someone, but you'd better keep your feelings to yourself. If someone finds out there is someone you care for, it makes a target out of them. Understand?” He said he did. She doubted that he did, truly, but didn't know what else to say, so she put her glasses back on and went back to reading.

Or at least, she'd tried. But now her mind was elsewhere. It wasn't a topic she cared to discuss with him further. Wouldn't know how to, anyway. Her own education on the matter had been in relation to the Empire's breeding programs, and she herself never had a husband or wife, hardly had anything that would count as a romantic relationship at all. One-off sexual encounters had occurred here and there, but nothing that she'd ever let evolve into anything beyond. There were always more pressing matters to attend to in her life. Such as galactic domination.

All her life, that had been her one true ambition: serving the Empire and bringing the galaxy into unity and order. And she's doing it. She's in charge now. Pushed to the edge of the known galaxy, alone, but in complete control.

She's pleased to have made it this far, and yet, somehow there does seem to be a missing piece in her life. It's lonely at the top. She has to admit that, if not aloud, at least to herself. She has no family. There is no one she can truly count on as a friend. The closest thing she has to that was stretched out on her couch, his nose buried in a book.

She offhandedly wondered what kind of person, if any, Armitage might take interest in. Someone driven and vicious like himself? Or someone softer to balance out his ruthlessness? Maybe a bit of both. After all, he himself was softer once. She can't help but to wonder if he still could be, somewhere under all the violence and calculation.

She tried to picture him with someone she would approve of. Someone to push him to be better, stronger, without distracting him from his duties as an officer of the First Order. Someone truly remarkable. She came up empty handed in the end. Though there were plenty of strong young cadets with much potential, there was not a single one she could think of who could match him for wits and ambition. Maybe he would was better off by himself. There are worse things than being alone, after all.

She's been on her own for most of her life and all things considered, it's not such a bad way to live. By yourself, for yourself. No messiness of wanting to put someone else's interests or desires before your own, and no weakness for others to exploit. Lonely? Yes. But would she change it? Not a chance. She can't imagine that she could have ever been satisfied settling for anything less than exactly what she wants.

But what is it that _he_ wants? Does he want to take control of the galaxy, or would he be content settling with someone and having an easy life? He has never been given a choice, she knows. He was born into the Empire and thrust into this role of child-turned-commander. She herself will only just barely acknowledge her own role in the matter: she has been eyeing him to take a place at her side since he was a frightened and easily-swayed boy of five. But he's never once shown any sign of hesitation. He's always quick to lend a hand, dedicated to his studies and his work. When she's dropped hints that he could easily succeed her as head of the First Order one day, he smiles as if he can already picture himself on the proverbial throne. His relentless ambition remind her so much of herself, even despite their wildly different backgrounds, but still she wonders if it's truly what he wants, or if he's just eager to please.

Anyway, it wasn't long later that Armitage had stood and announced that he would go back to his own room to finish his work there. She watched him collect his things and go. Eventually she quieted her mind and again focused on her reports. There must be a way to break out of this growth lull. For now, it seems the best option is to venture down to some of these smaller planets in the vain hope that one of them will prove to be a miraculous hidden gem.  


 

More years pass and Sloane remains frustrated. Progress is still flatlining.

She knows the New Republic, as disorganized and chaotic as it is, will not be resting idly back in the known galaxy. Every day that passes is another day that the NR has to grow stronger. She has to keep pace. Perhaps they think they've seen the last of her, of the Empire, but if it takes until her dying days, she will make sure that they are wrong.

But the First Order still just can't seem to manage economies of scale to really break out of its inchoate status. What they have works, and works well, but they just don't have _enough_. And they are running out of worlds to explore. Most of the ones they've absorbed in the last few years have hardly been worth the effort it took to reach out and last month an unexpected gravitational well took out two star destroyers on their way back from a fruitless mission. Two of her best captains had been on those ships when they went down, along with a whole host of other important crew members and droids. Their losses have been hard to bear.

As a result, she's been having frequent meetings with Edridge and his team of engineers to resolve issues with the navigational charting system. Edridge has said the problems come from miscalculations as a result of unpredictable geomagnetic anomalies. The science of it all is a bit beyond her; she just wants it fixed.

He says they simply don't have enough information to understand how space behaves out here in uncharted space.

She likes him, she respects his work, and she tells him as much. But she also tells him to fix it.

He says he will try.

She says he will do more than try.

Since the losses of the _Caladbolg_ and _Masamune_ , she's been wary about sending large parties into new regions. Understandably, it's also left people uneasy about venturing into deeper space. She's had to shift people around, offer hazard pay incentives she wouldn't normally consider for scouting missions. It's also meant having to make quick promotions of her most promising junior officers.

Naturally, Lieutenant Armitage Hux is one such obvious choice to promote. And when she informs him that this promotion to captain comes with the intention of sending him on what could turn out to be a dangerous mission to a moon they had not yet reached, he shows no hesitation. Unlike his contemporaries, he jumps at the opportunity, as he always does.

His superior officers at the academy have never had anything but praise for the way he conducted himself in the classroom and in the simulations. Throughout the years, more than a couple have relayed Sloane the sentiment that if the old Empire had had more officers like Armitage in their ranks, they would have never lost Endor. She's reminded them that Empires are not built on individuals, but on the actions of a cohesive unit operating for the benefit of the whole, and they've agreed, of course. But as she's watched them leave, she's felt pride bubbling in her heart. Yes, she knows. Armitage has potential. It's why she's kept him close all these years. Each day that potential grows. She's grooming him to become something important.

At first, she had found it odd that his teachers and superiors would forgo his father and come speak praise of Armitage to her instead, but it had never been any secret that Armitage was closer to Sloane than he was to his own father. In his free time, Armitage could often be found in Sloane's company, playing Dejarik, or reading while she worked. For a few years she had been training him in the old-style Imperial martial arts, but the persisting ache in her side made it difficult for her to sustain energy in longer sessions.

Meanwhile, Brendol never did come to care for his son. He runs his new training academy on Archirodan with the same passionate dedication he'd shown on Arkanis, churning out legions of capable troopers, but in the 15 years it's now been since Jakku, she's still never seen him interact with his own son outside of a classroom or training gym. He'd never once shown up to any of Armitage's promotional ceremonies, either.

When she asks Armitage if his father will come to see him off tomorrow for his first official deployment, he seems confused by the very idea.

“Would you want him to?”

A non-committal shrug. “It hardly matters.”

She sighs. Teenagers and their posturing.

She says she'll see him in the morning and dismisses him.

  
Sloane and Brendol have continued to keep a very distant professional relationship, only interacting on the occasions when he comes to her asking for more resources allocated to his academy or training programs. She often signs off on his requests and dismisses him without another word, usually via holocall, so when she requests his physical presence in her office, it doesn't surprise her that he shows up looking slightly apprehensive.

“Sit,” she says, gesturing to the chair on the other side of her desk. He seems to consider a moment and then takes a seat, waiting for her to say more.

From her lowest drawer, she pulls out a bottle of high quality brandy that was confiscated last week from a travelling caravan attempting to smuggle large quantities of liquor without paying duties.

She pours two snifters and offers one to Hux, who takes it with a look of uncertainty. But by now he knows better than to ask stupid questions, so he remains wordless, waiting in simmering anxiety for her to speak first.

She raises her glass and takes a sip. He does the same.

“Armitage was promoted to captain yesterday,” she says eventually, finally breaking the ice.

Brendol raises his eyebrows and takes a drink. “Good for him.”

“You weren't at the ceremony.”

He shrugs. “Didn't think it was important. It's only captain, after all.”

“So you're waiting until he is made general, is that it?” Sloane says, tipping her head back to look down her nose at him. She's perfected this look over the years.

Brendol barks a laugh, then quickly brings the glass back up to his lips to hide his amusement. “The boy has done more than I thought he would, I'll give him that, but a general? I'll believe it when I see it.”

“You know,” she begins quietly, almost laughing to herself. “I never thought I'd say this, but he's your son, Brendol. Try to give a shit.”

He sets the glass down on the desk. “Is that an order, Leader Sloane?”

Her jaw stiffens. Her blood surges with the desire to leap over this desk and beat him senseless again, as she did all those years ago. But what good will that do? It's not like she should give a shit, either, but she doesn't appreciate this subtle call-out.

“No,” she concedes, some tension alleviating. “I cannot force you to care about your son, but you should know he is the most loyal officer this Empire has. He'll surpass you in rank before he reaches 30, mark my words. If we intend to ever take the galaxy back from the New Republic, Armitage Hux will be vital. And you don't even bother to show up at his promotion?”

Brendol shifts. “I have followed you, quite literally, to the end of the galaxy, Sloane. You have my full and unwavering support. And I have remained true to my word. I trained that boy. To the best of my abilities. I taught him everything I know. But unless you're making another command of me, that's as far as my obligations go.”

She arches her eyebrows and sips her brandy. “I'm sending him on his first solo assignment tomorrow,” she tells him. “It would be good if you were there to see him off.”

She watches him take his drink in hand again. This is absurd, she knows. She's neither Armitage's mother nor Brendol's wife. There is nothing for her to gain from this exchange. And yet. She knows Armitage would want to see his father there, even if he won't say so himself. If it had been at all possible, she would have given anything to see the look on her parents' faces when she rose through the ranks.

“To feel that he has his father's support might encourage him to work harder for the Order,” she adds when he continues to sit in silence.

He takes a sip. “What kind of assignment?”

“A diplomatic affair. Someone from a moon in the XR region has reached out to us, requesting a summit. As you know, it's rare for others to contact us before we contact them, but the fact that they have been able to do so means their technology must be at least on par with our own, so it cannot go ignored. I am hoping that they might have something we can use to start our conquest back into the known galaxy.”

“And you're sending _Armitage_ to see to this? Why not send someone with more experience? Why not go yourself?”

“I could,” she says, and she's considered the situation carefully. It's precarious work to balance her position as head of the supreme unifying force of this region of the galaxy, with the interests of the leaders of these planets she's trying to bring under her rule. Of course, the law of the Order supersedes any auxiliary wants of the planets under its jurisdiction, but _getting_ these planets to come under their umbrella is what requires something of a diplomatic charade that she's never felt comfortable playing. “But what Armitage lacks in experience, he makes up for in potential. He is my most capable officer and there is no one I trust more. If these people wish to strike a deal with us, I want the strongest face of the First Order to be there. Besides,” she adds. “He volunteered.”

“Volunteered?”

“After what happened to the _Caladbolg_ and _Masamune_ , a lot of the more senior officers are wary of going into uncharted space. I could command them and they would go, of course, but Armitage actually offered to see to this assignment himself. The boy is eager to prove himself. Always has been. I think he believes it's his destiny to rule the galaxy one day. He could very well do it.”

“Ha. Takes after you, then, does he?”

Sloane frowns at him.

Brendol laughs to himself. “You've been a good influence on him, Sloane. Anything that boy achieves is because of your influence, not mine. All I ever did was teach him to be ruthless.”

“A necessary skill out here. And a necessary skill to hammer down the tyranny of the New Republic.”

He takes another sip. “What do we know of this moon?”

“Not much,” she admits. “To be quiet honest, another reason I am not going myself is because I don't want our immediate response to be me appearing personally. I don't want to appear too hasty or desperate. I'm not convinced their planet is worth such attention and giving it to them too soon could set a bad precedent. They have revealed very little to us at this point, it is poor strategy to show our hand first.”

A spark of anger ignites in Brendol's eyes. “You could be sending him into a trap.”

She nods. “I could very well be.” Brendol moves as if he's going to say something further but she cuts him off. “But there is no one in this Order more capable of working his way through a trap than Armitage Hux.”

Brendol works his jaw. “Children are a weakness I never wanted,” he says. “I never asked to be a father. But, well,” he takes a drink. “Mistakes were made.”

“I never asked for half the shit I've been given in this life either,” she says, leaning forward, her forearms resting on her desk. “But sometimes it's not about asking, it's about taking what you've been given and using it to the best of your abilities to get what you actually want. And sometimes,” she continues, “mistakes are later revealed as blessings in disguise.”

He grits his teeth and settles back into his seat. He turns his glass around in his grip. “What time?” He asks eventually, quiet.

She waits for him to elaborate.

“What time are you deploying him tomorrow.”

“0800 hours. Docking bay 39.”

Brendol throws back the last of his drink and looks her in the eye when he says: “I'll see you there, Leader Sloane.”

 

When she arrives to see Armitage off the next morning, Brendol is not present. Latent hatred bubbles up within her, but she keeps it to herself. It doesn't matter.

She steps forward to present Armitage with a thick gaberwool coat, a captain's stripe freshly sewn onto the left arm. “Here. Something for your trip. You're going to need it.”

Armitage smiles and slips it on over his uniform. It fits him well. She stands back to admire how grown up he looks now. A captain. No longer a boy, but a young man.

“That the only coat you've got?” Someone asks, walking up behind them. They turn. “You're going to be cold. I read it rarely gets above freezing on that moon. Rains, too.”

To everyone's surprise, it's Brendol. He's kept his word after all.

Rae smiles. But not as noticeably as Armitage. “I'll be fine.”

“Ha. Don't be so sure. Here,” Brendol says, offering Armitage a small box. He takes it and pulls off the lid to reveal an officer's edition blaster. “Never know when one of these might come in handy.”

“Thank you,” Armitage grins and attaches it to a holster at his side.

This is not her family, Sloane reminds herself. But it is all she has, so she takes what she's given and she watches with pride as Captain Armitage Hux boards the shuttle to take him down to his first posting in his new position. After the ship has departed, she nods once to Brendol and returns to her office to busy herself with work.

 

  
The first report she receives from him a few days later makes no sense. Apparently, the civilization Armitage has been sent to convene with is not a civilization at all, but one individual. One individual running an entire base on his own. One individual capable of running an entire base, also aware of the progress of the First Order? Her brow creases. There must be a mistake. Perhaps the mistake was sending him into this kind of assignment so quickly.

Sighing, she pushes a button and soon Armitage's face comes into focus on the holocell, stern and formal, his bright hair swept neatly underneath his command cap.

“Report.”

He blinks. “Did you not receive my upload?”

“I did. But perhaps the file was corrupted. It said the entire planet is being operated by one individual. Surely that is a mistake.”

“It's no mistake, Leader Sloane. Snoke is this planet's sole inhabitant.” The crease in her brow deepens as Armitage continues. “I must admit, when we first docked, I was underwhelmed. But Snoke has been a gracious host. He possesses a far deeper knowledge of the galaxy's happenings than anyone on any other system we have ever encountered and is sympathetic to our aims. However,” he hesitates. “Permission to speak frankly?”

She inclines her head. “Granted.”

“He did mention that he was disappointed the Official Leader of the First Order did not come to conference with him directly.”

From her room aboard the _Eclipse_ , she sighs. She simply does not have the time, the resources, or quite honestly the _patience_ to personally liaise with every dignitary who thinks themself center of the galaxy. If there were reason to believe this individual is some sort of benevolent benefactor, she could be on the next shuttle to depart, but without tangible proof, there is hardly enough incentive to mobilize.

She tells him as much and nods curtly. “He wants to build an alliance. He says he is impressed with the First Order's ambition and efficiency.”

“So?” She says, growing impatient. Of course he would impressed with the work of the First Order. Things run smoothly under the uncompromising iron fist of conformity and law. Especially when Sloane herself is the one who designed those laws. “Flattery will not help us defeat the New Republic.”

“Of course,” Armitage nods again. “But Snoke also purports to have access to boundless resources, and he's keen to share them with us should we reach an accord.”

“Resources?” She's skeptical. Maybe it really was unwise to send her least experienced officer, no matter how much potential he may possess. Sometimes there are lessons that no amount of theoretical training or conditioning can teach, after all. She really expected better of him, though. “One man on one small rock. What could he possibly have to offer us?”

“Information.”

“Information.” She repeats, unimpressed. “Armitage, I know you're not as naïve as--”

“Rae,” he says in a quiet voice. “I'm serious. He knew my name before he had even met me. He knew everything about me. He knows all about the Order, too. Our past and present. Our future, even.” At that, Rae narrows her eyes. “Or so he claims. He also claimed to have personally known Emperor Palpatine.”

 _Palpatine_? Whatever Rae was going to say dies in her throat. She peers into the holo, trying to understand. “How could that be possible?”

Armitage darts a look around him before refocusing on the screen. “I'm not sure, honestly. He speaks of the Force,” Armitage almost laughs. “As if it were something real.”

Sloane feels her insides pitch. The Force? She didn't believe in it either, until she'd met Darth Vader. But that was years ago, and Vader had died with Palpatine. And the Jedi had all been massacred long before that, hadn't they? All of that was so beyond her scope of knowledge, she really couldn't separate fact from fiction. She doesn't know. But she has a bad feeling about this. She pulls her glasses off.

“I'm not sure I want you down there on your own, Armitage. I shouldn't have sent you on this mission alone.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you know that. I've got half my soldiers here. And, besides, if Snoke truly wishes to help us, shouldn't we take it? Rae,” he says, leaning in closer. “This could be our breaking point.”

“Hmm,” she frowns. “ _If_ that is the case, then what is he asking of us in return?”

“He has not yet revealed that to me. All he has said is that he intends to help us claim our rightful place as rulers of the galaxy, should we choose to accept his aid.”

“And if we choose not to?”

Armitage blinks. “He has made no threats, if that's what you're asking. It's not like he has an army to challenge us anyway.”

“I know,” she grimaces. “But there's something suspicious at work here. Be careful, Armitage.”

“I'll be extra vigilant.”

She nods and replaces her glasses with a sigh. “In the meantime, see what more you can learn from him. Report back immediately if you sense any danger.”

He gives a small bow and she cuts the feed. Alone in her too-quiet room, she remains sitting with the comm device in her hands for a moment, trying to work out what it could mean that this figure might possibly have known the late Emperor Palpatine. How? When? In what context? And if it really is a Force-thing, stars help them all. Sloane knew the rumors circulating about Palpatine's connection to the Force, and she had seen what Vader could do with it first hand. She knows all too well there is no defense for power of that kind. But Force users are rare, aren't they? How likely is it that this Snoke character could be one of those?

She reaches for her datapad again and rereads the report Armitage has filed, looking for any information about this Snoke character. There isn't much. Only that he's humanoid, but non-human, referred to as male, and is fluent in Basic. That alone is rare for someone out here. Perhaps a first clue. But for what puzzle? The information trail ends there.

She'll wait and see. She's not convinced this will turn into anything significant. In fact, it's entirely possible this could be some extravagant trap to lure her to the surface and take her hostage. At that thought, she suddenly worries again for the safety of her captain. _A weakness to exploit._ Resisting the temptation to dwell on this, she powers off the datapad. She won't act hastily either way. She'll wait to see what news his next report brings. This nonsense about the Force and Palpatine... it could wait until she had rest.

She puts the matter aside and retires for the night.

  
Much to her frustration, a passing plasma storm scrambles the _Eclipse's_ communication feeds for the next few days and the ship finds itself cut off from the rest of the First Order's network. Even despite their considerable gains in these territories, she hates the frequent reminders that they are still at the mercy of nature, after all.

When the communication links are finally reestablished, she checks in with her deployed officers, making sure none of them tried to contact her while their systems were down. One by one, she makes contact with each, pleased to find that they'd managed to carry on business as usual. Armitage is the last one she comms. She's been putting it off until the end. Her pulse suddenly picks up as she dials his frequency. _Please be all right._ It feels like forever but is really only a few moments before he appears on the holo looking polished as ever.

Relief. She lets out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding when he, too, reports no emergencies. “Good.” _Thank the stars_. “Do you have an estimated date of return to the _Eclipse_?”

“Two more days here will be sufficient for this first visit.”

“ _First_ visit?” She says, quirking an eyebrow. “Don't get ahead of yourself, Armitage.”

“Of course, I serve at your discretion,” he concedes, “but I believe you will want to keep a channel open with Snoke once you see what he has to offer.”

She hums. “We'll see.”

He gives a shallow bow and she ends the transmission. She has a protocol droid bring her a glass of wine, feeling massively relieved, yet still on edge. She hadn't expected this would be quiet so trying.  


 

Armitage comes back to the _Eclipse_ after another week, bringing with him a number of maps and navigational charts that point out where gravitational wells and geomagnetic anomalies occur. This could save them immensely, not just in people and resources, but in time and credits as well. On these maps is also included complicated ways of actually _using_ these gravitational fields to their advantage by borrowing their energy to slingshot ships through space, saving on fuel. Edridge says he's never seen such detailed, precise reports before, even in old Imperial archives of the charted galaxy.

Gifts from Snoke, Armitage tells him.

Brendol is there as well, turning over another device in his hands. Armitage tells him this one can predict plasma wind storms and mitigate the impact of solar flares.

This will all be invaluable, for sure, Sloane says. But it's not exactly a game-changer in regards to their war with the New Republic.

Armitage concedes that it's not, but says Snoke has more information he's willing to share with the First Order. This is but a taste.

“I suspect he's not doing this out of the kindness of his pure heart,” she frowns. “What does he ask of us in return?”

“He has yet to ask anything, to be honest. He may eventually but thus far, when I've asked, he has stated only that he shares our view that the galaxy must come under the rule of a firm hand in order to progress and wishes to see it carried out.”

She shakes her head, eyes still studying these maps and diagrams. “That can't be it. There must be something.”

“These new tools are much appreciated regardless,” Edridge says. “They will undoubtedly come in handy for future endeavors. Deal with problems one at a time.”

She nods and dismisses him. She respects him as an engineer, but there's a reason why he is not Emperor himself.

When he has gone, Armitage turns back to her. “If it please you, Leader Sloane, I'd like to request to pay Snoke a follow-up visit at the earliest convenience.”

She regards him coolly and blinks. “You're the captain of a ship, not an ambassador, Armitage.”

To her surprise, and slight annoyance, Brendol actually speaks up. “You've said it yourself, Sloane: we simply don't have enough resources yet. We don't have enough people to designate as official ambassadors for this planet or that planet. What Armitage has brought back looks like a start to something. He can be ambassador and captain.”

She stares at him. “You are the training academy head, are you not, Commandant Hux?”

“I am.”

“Does this look like an academy classroom to you?”

“No, ma'am.” He bows his head and shuts up.

Armitage waits a beat and looks at her again. “Each of us has to take on multiple roles to best serve this Empire. I believe I am capable of overseeing ambassadorial duties here in addition to any First Order assignments you give me. Snoke's base is big enough, and well-equipped, that I can complete my tasks for the First Order while also continuing to learn from him.”

She sighs with a frown. She should be happy he's willing to go above and beyond, but she can't help but to have some misgivings over this whole situation. There's something about this Snoke character she doesn't trust. But she trusts Armitage, doesn't she?

“The maps are just a start. Snoke has offered the First Order considerable resources if only we keep an open communications channel with him. You told me once before that sometimes help comes from the most unexpected of sources. Is this anything but unexpected?”

She purses her lips. She did say that, but this isn't exactly the situation she'd had in mind.

“What other choice do we have, Rae? Apologies, _Leader_ Sloane.” He corrects when she gives him a stern look. “What he has already given us could expedite future exploration endeavors by _centuries_.”

“There are no shortcuts to a job well done, Armitage.”

He sighs and relents. Slightly. Very slightly. “Yes, Leader Sloane.”

In the end, though, she concedes to send him back to Snoke's planet-moon. It _is_ the best lead they've had in years. The only one, really.

Besides, she tells herself, it's stupid to want to act on this irrational impulse to keep him out of danger. He's an officer in her militia, and a damn capable one. The last thing she should be doing is indulging some asinine fantasy that she has some sort of family and companionship in someone else.

Still, she hopes that Armitage knows what he's doing.  


 

“Report.”

He nods. “Operations normal. Daily activities carried out as scheduled. Our power systems are holding steady at 83%, despite the solar winds.”

“And what are you learning from our mysterious benefactor this time?” She asks after he's finished detailing the standard report of affairs. It's the third, and longest trip he's made to Snoke's world. True to his word, those navigational tools had been only a taste. Each time he's come back with more information, more equipment, things that are putting the First Order's growth back on track. She remains cautiously wary of the entire thing, but so far the intelligence Snoke has given them has been good.

“Snoke has spoken of a planet rich in kyber. Not far from here, either,” he says, switching the display to a map leading to the planet. “The small local population could easily be persuaded to leave, he says. A deal, a one-for-one trade. They have no use of kyber; they want arable land, not the frozen tundra forests they struggle to survive in. We move them to a more suitable planet, and we take theirs for its power. It's a win-win solution.” He changes the display back and his face is once again visible.

“Interesting. I can have someone run feasibility studies on worlds with potential for rehoming these natives. We always have use of kyber for power.”

“Speaking of power,” Armitage says. He's got that look in his eye. “Snoke has been teaching me about a kind of dark energy. Quintessence.”

She rests her chin in one hand, her elbow in the other. “I've heard Edridge mention it. Incredibly powerful, but impossible to harvest.”

“Perhaps not impossible,” Armitage says. “Snoke believes there is a way to go about doing it. If such power can be successfully contained, it would provide a virtually limitless source of energy.”

“Really.”

Armitage tilts his head to one side slightly. “Do you still not trust him?”

Rae throws her hands up. “I don't know, Armitage. I don't know what to make of this. He gives and gives, but has yet to say what it is he wants from us. It's hard not to be a little suspicious.”

“He tells me he admires your work.”

Flattery is too often used as a way to manipulate, she knows, so she ignores this with a rather undignified eye roll and changes the subject. “How long do you intend to stay there this time?”

“I'm not sure,” Armitage says. “Between the study of quintessence and the search for more traditional sources of power, it might be a while.” She hopes the disappointment is not evident on her face, but fears it is when he says: “You could come visit here, perhaps?”

She offers him a small smile. She's thought about it before, but managed to talk herself out of it every time. She's got a thousand other things that require her attention and she needs to trust her people to do their jobs, not get caught up in inane sentimentalities. "Would that there were time."

He nods, says he understands.

“All right,” she says before this can get any more mawkish than it already is. “Keep in touch and let me know if there are any breakthroughs in this dark energy work.”

“Yes, Leader Sloane.”

He bows and she cuts the feed. She stays up for several hours longer, filling reports and reading what she can find in the Imperial archives about dark energy.

She goes to bed and dreams that the Death Star has been remade and poised to vanquish the New Republic. It should be a good dream, but something is missing. She tries to figure out what it is, but finds the harder she tries to grasp at it, the quicker the vision fades. Eventually, she forgets it entirely.

 

 

It's been months since the last time she saw him in person. It's unfortunate that their reunion has to be in these circumstances now. She's come down from the _Eclipse_ to meet him on Archirodan, a small, green planet where Hux Senior's First Order training academy is located. The weather is crisp and cool. It had rained in the early morning, before the wake, and the air is still misty, but the skies now are mostly clear.

With two glasses of bubbling wine, Sloane walks out onto the second-story balcony where Armitage is standing at the balustrade, his arms resting on the railing as he leans over. Her lip curls in disgust as she watches him light up a cigarra and take a long drag, smoke billowing from his nostrils as if he's some great beast.

“Must you do that in my presence?”

He turns to regard her coolly, lifting an eyebrow ever so slowly as he takes another deep drag. "I didn't realize you were there."

"Well, I am. And yet still you persist," she says, handing him a glass. "It'll kill you, you know."

“As I recall,” Armitage says, flicking the tip of his cig. “You made a promise to protect me from my father. Not myself.”

The boy too smart for his own good has become a young man, too smart assed for his own good. She frowns at him as he takes the glass and turns away for another drag.

She should have something to say for this. Something comforting. But she doesn't. Brendol was not a good man, but he occasionally came in handy? Not exactly the kind of words appropriate for the situation.

She settles for something honest yet value-neutral as she moves to stand beside him. “He lived much further beyond what many would have predicted for him. His health had suffered on Jakku. I had my doubts on if he would even survive our journey through the Unknown Regions.”

He says nothing.

“Do you remember leaving Jakku?” She asks when the silence stretches on too long.

Armitage scoffs under his breath. He's never liked talking about the past, preferring only to think of the present and what his future holds. Perhaps he also doesn't like the reminder of how he once was. Young and vulnerable. Weak willed. Innocent.

“I remember.” He says. “I was so glad to leave that place.”

“You and me both. Do you remember me finding you asleep in that armchair on the _Imperialis_?”

He gives a weak smile and looks down. “I remember.”

“Look how you've grown since then.” She reaches over to lay a gloved hand on his shoulder. “You've done well, Armitage.”

“I'd wanted him to at least survive to see me surpass him in rank,” he responds after a beat, not taking his dead-locked stare away from the distant rooftops of the barracks.

“He knew you would. He might not have said as much, but he knew.”

“Sure.” He sucks on the cigarra again and shakes his head when he exhales. “Do you wish I'd joined the Navy, Auntie Rae?”

“No,” she says with a wry smile. “I couldn't stand having you as _my_ competition. Besides,” she adds when he rolls his eyes. “You were meant to command people, not ships. Soldiers.”

He nods and smiles, looking down in an almost demure way.

It's true. Though Rae was never particularly keen on the exact methods, it is clear now that putting tiny nervous five-year-old Armitage Hux in charge of those feral murder children shaped him into quite the commanding officer. For better or worse, he's largely taken after his father. But Armitage is far more capable. More insightful. More aware. And he's got a good helping of Sloane's level-headed influence mixed in with his father unrelenting brutality.

“Are you doing okay?” She asks, trying not to sound accusatory.

He shrugs. “You know better than anyone my relationship with my father was... strained.” She hums and he almost chuckles. “I spent a lot of time as a child wishing you were my father instead of him.” He does chuckle, then. “I didn't really understand how biology worked at that time, of course.”

Rae says nothing but she can't fight the smile playing at the corner of her lips, or that small bubble of sorrow-tinted pride swelling in her chest. She's missed him. She knows she should be making more regular holocalls to check in on him, but she's been so busy running the Order, and he always insists that he's got his end of things locked down.

She brings her hands to the railing and they stand looking out over the small estate in contemplative silence. She almost thinks to ask him about about Snoke or the progress of his work there, but catches herself before she does. Now is not the time, nor the place. Instead, her mind drifts and she wonders what ever became of her own parents on Ganthel. Once she left for the Academy, she never went back. She couldn't, once the planet had fallen into the hands of the New Republic. Not even remote communication was possible, then. A holocall would have been monitored, traced, if it could even breach the firewall in the first place, and Sloane knew no one who would risk delivering a hand-written message for her, especially not for purely sentimental reasons. She wasn't even entirely sure if her parents could read Basic anyway. Composition was something she'd been taught at the Academy, not on the shipping docks.

Before she really knows what was happening, she finds herself relaying this information to Armitage.

When she turns, he's giving her a sympathetic look. It gives her pause. This look doesn't suit him, nor does being pitied suit her. She quickly shrugs away any lingering wistful nostalgia. “But that's neither here nor there.”

He finishes off his cigarra finally, stubs out the end and flicks it over the railing. Sloane would normally chide him over such a thing, but today she says nothing. She watches from the corner of her eye as he exhales his last breath of smoke and leans over the railing again. “I wish this could have taken place on Arkanis.”

She nods. No doubt the late Hux Senior would have wished the same thing. He did his best out here, but she knows Arkanis was where the real glory days of Brendol's life had been spent. She wonders if Armitage misses it, too. Misses a life before all of this mess. “One day,” she says. “We'll take it back.”

Beside her Armitage nods. “Ganthel, too. We'll liberate your planet, not just from the paralysis of the New Republic's hold, but also from the shackles of poverty. And then, the rest of the galaxy.”

She turns to smile at him. “I have no doubt you're going to make a fine General someday.”

He returns the smile with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Why stop there?”

They tap their glasses together with a crisp _clang_ and drink. To endings, and to new beginnings. To their Empire.

 

===


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, got a little dark in certain scenes here, but nothing super gratuitous or wildly atypical of canon.

===

Sloane had wanted to appoint Armitage head of the Archirodan training academy after his father's death, but he was reluctant to accept, saying his talents were better utilized on a far grander scale. Though he'd never admit as much, Rae suspected it was more that he didn't want to be hidden in the shadow of his father's legacy. Fair enough, really.

He was already doing more than his share of work on behalf of the Order, dispatching his soldiers on covert missions when asked and serving as a contact point with Snoke, a relationship that has paid off, time and time again. In the end, she had offered him a promotion to colonel if he would agree to occasionally provide counsel on academy curriculum and operations. Surely no one knew the late Hux's training methodology better than his own son, she reasoned. He agreed, on the condition that his work with the academy could be done remotely, thus allowing him to continue focusing primarily on his study of dark energy. She offered her hand and they shook on it. And off he went the next morning, back to Snoke's world, after laughing off her follow-up offer of bereavement leave.

And though she'd told then that she would make a personal trip to Snoke's world soon (and he had said yes, please do that), her duties as leader of the First Order have since kept her far too busy to indulge in this kind of vacation. She knows that she could easily classify such a trip as First Order business, given how integral Snoke has been making himself in their recent campaigns, and she also knows that she has no higher authority and can do what she pleases, and yet... she doesn't go. She keeps telling herself that Armitage is fine there. He is an adult and needs no coddling. He may be effectively an orphan now, that still doesn't make her his mother, or anything but commanding officer. She still finds herself thinking of him when she glances at her long-neglected holochess board or when they serve his favorite food in the cafeteria, but the distance is good, she tells herself. For both of them. Sloane busies herself with more pressing matters.

And she really has been quite busy recently. Every few months, coordinates of another planet rich with unmined kyber or other minerals are relayed to her-- all apparently 'discovered' by Snoke via some nebulous use of the Force that Sloane is tempted to write off as bullshit, but it's been accurate so far and she'll take what she can get. And, if she's being fair, it's more than she could have ever hoped to ask for. These resources have powered their supply chains and factories, allowing them to mass-produce all new classes of TIE fighters and star destroyers. They've scaled up considerably in the last few months. It seems like she's reading through a new feasibility study or field report every other day. In tandem, the new headmaster of the Archirodan training academy is maintaining the positive output the late Brendol Hux had achieved, and their forces are steadily amassing. More sentients from the allied planets have been rushing to enlist in the First Order's militia now that they've seen how rich they are in resources and potential. The Order has finally reached the tipping point, and they're back an exponential growth rate.

It's been a dizzying past year. She'd thought, rather naïvely in retrospect, that she could rest easier when they had finally gotten out of the scrappy survival-mode phase, but she hardly has time for sleep now that her Empire is expanding so rapidly. Hardly has time for anything even resembling it. She pours herself another cup of dangerously-caffeinated caf and returns to the buzzing of her comm.

Her frown subsides when she sees it's not some urgent business matter, but Armitage requesting a holoconference on her personal line. The last time she'd spoke to him, he had called her to congratulate her for finally taking the first small steps back into the known galaxy. It had only been a small scouting mission to the very edge of the Outer Rim, but still. It was something. It was progress. The first tentative steps of many proud strides to come. That was months ago. Has it really been so long since they've been in touch?

“Armitage Hux,” she says with an easy smile as she answers the call. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I would be remiss not to call the galaxy's future Emperor on the anniversary of her birth and express my well wishes.”

She pauses a moment and checks the date-- he's right. She'd hardly even remembered it was that day again already. With a laugh, she rubs her forehead and admits this to him.

“A testament to your indefatigable work ethic!”

At that, she arches an knowing eyebrow and asks him what favor he is after this time.

Ha laughs and denies having an ulterior motive. It's a convincing act, but she suspects he's just gotten better at hiding them. He'll spring something on her by the time this conversation is up, she is sure. She knows him better than any of her other underlings, and he's also the only one she allows herself to be even this casual around. It's been a while, anyway.

They chat for a bit about the updated curriculum in the training academy and the progress of their Empire. There have been a few other exploratory missions to the Outer Rim since that first test-run, and they are gearing up to begin full colonization works next. Armitage updates her on the progress of their experiments with dark energy and informs her that they have found a suitable place to relocate the natives of Ninuutallaq so they can begin mining and excavations as soon as the planet is evacuated. He says it will be a win-win for both parties.

In all honesty, it hardly matters if the natives want to go or not; they have what the First Order needs-- power to be put to a greater use for the good of the galaxy. They would be moving one way or another. But Sloane is pleased to know that these natives are apparently still blissfully unaware of the value of the resources upon which they live. Thank the stars for that. The seismic data obtained on the kyber reserves alone were enough to catch the attention of the First Order's energy department, but Armitage says that their planet is cold on the surface with a soft rock core, easy to mine and tunnel-- optimal conditions for an experimental weapon he has been designing with Snoke.

“A weapon?”

“Yes. We've been making interesting progress on our experiments with quintessence and dark energy. It has significant potential to outpace even kyber in terms of power generation.” Even kyber? Could that be true? “Still, harnessing it is proving difficult,” Armitage continues. “Snoke has some ideas, but he's not always so forthright in telling me them. I think he prefers me to puzzle it out on my own. If we can manage it, though, this energy may be capable of powering a super laser strong enough to destroy entire _systems_.”

She balks. It's another Death Star. She's seen such endeavors fail before. Twice. The second one hadn't even finished construction before the Rebels had destroyed it, cementing the Empire's fall. She would not have her own legacy ruined by such an exercise in hubris and tells him as much.

But this would be different, he insists. This isn't constructing a space station; it's making a weapon of an entire planet. And with a weapon like this in their arsenal, no one-- least of all the New Republic-- would dare oppose them. It won't have the weakness of the first Death Star, and because it would be constructed in the Unknown Regions, the Rebels won't be able to sabotage it before completion as they did the second one.

“What good would it do us to build this kind of weapon out here?” She asks. “We're already beginning our march back into the Outer Rim and I have no intention of stopping there.”

“You won't have to!” He says. “This weapon will be mobile. We are designing a way to warp the gravitational and electromagnetic fields so that we can position this planet wherever we deem necessary. We can begin preliminary construction out here in the Unknown Regions, then move it with us as we march back into the known galaxy. When unaligned systems see what we are capable of, they will not hesitate to join our cause.”

Sloane steeples her fingers, considering. A planet-sized weapon, capable of taking out multiple planets at once? That certainly would send a message, wouldn't it? And a rather unsubtle one at that. She likes that it's bold, forthright, with none of the tricks and secrecy of Rax's war games. A hammer striking down opposition, not a knife in the back.

"But do we really have the resources to invest in this kind of experimental project?"

"Snoke has offered to fund entire thing," Armitage informs her. "There is really nothing to lose."

Rather than relief, though, she feels wary. Her brow creases. “So Snoke is planning on designing, building, and _gifting_ me this kind of super weapon? How do you know he won't turn to fire it on us?”

“Because I would be in charge of it,” Armitage says. “If it please you, of course.” He quickly adds when she shoots him an 'oh, really?' look. “Snoke wants to see the galaxy united just as much as we do. He is a man of knowledge and learning. He knows that disorder stifles progress. It takes a streamlined environment free of bureaucracy or chaos to get anything done, and that is something only the First Order can bring to the galaxy. This could be a weapon to end all wars.”

Sloane hums. Indeed, everything runs more efficiently under the uncompromising iron fist of conformity and law, things go smoothly when there are standards to be upheld. Even more so when Sloane herself designed those laws and standards. Still, she doesn't care how enlightened or learned someone is; she knows the temptation to seize power for oneself is as innate as breathing or language. She hasn't managed to quite trust this Snoke character yet. But she trusts Armitage, doesn't she?

She sighs and tells him to continue drafting his proposal and she'll run it by Edridge and the other engineers to see what they have to say. The planet is already to be evacuated for kyber mining operations, so if the design seems feasible, she supposes there would be no harm in letting this wasteland become a testing ground for the future of weaponry, particularly if Snoke will be the one providing the credits to see this thing into its development phase. She is acutely aware this could backfire immensely, but it's to her advantage to keep letting Snoke believe the First Order is enthusiastically appreciative of his contributions thus far, so she'll continue playing it by ear for now. Armitage says she won't be disappointed.

She hums in acknowledgment. "So," she says, moving on from the subject of weapons development into something she's been long curious about. Since she has him on the line now, she might as well ask. “You have said before that Snoke commands the Force.”

“Indeed, or so he claims. He doesn't speak to me of it, but in fleeting references to its alleged powers. As I myself am not attuned to this mystical 'Force', he doesn't bore me with its details.”

Sloane wonders if that's bitterness she detects. “Have you seen him demonstrate this power?”

Armitage half-shrugs. “Summoning objects, bending gravity-- I have seen such abilities demonstrated. I suspect there must be some kind of scientific explanation for how it works, but the physics of it have thus far eluded me. He sometimes speaks of Force-divined visions and prophecies, and apparently there exist others who can tap into this power."

“Yes,” she frowns. “Darth Vader commanded the Force. It was widely rumored that Palpatine could as well.”

“Surely you don't believe that, do you, Leader Sloane?”

She grimaces. “I'm afraid I do. I had the... shall we say _privilege_ to meet Vader on more than one occasion. I saw with my own eyes what he was capable of. It's not something to take lightly, Armitage.”

“But, visions, Rae? Prophecies? But between you and me, I don't have much patience for talk of fate and destiny.”

She presses her lips into a thin line. “I can't speak to that. But, one would think that if such things were truly possible, then Palpatine and Vader would still be alive.”

Armitage nods solemnly.

“Still, though,” Sloane continues. “Be cautious. Stay alert. A strange old religion though it may be, there's always something a little dangerous about the unknown.”

He nods again. “Understood.”

A brief silence passes between them with business having been finished, but neither seeming quite ready to end the call. Armitage looks like he still has something he wants to ask of her. She laces her fingers together and waits.

“Have you found time yet to pay a visit to Snoke's base?” Armitage finally asks, somewhat uncertain.

“Has he requested it of me?” She returns, somewhat surprised. If that's the case, she could rearrange her schedule, but she's so far heard of no further summons from their strange benefactor and Hux always assures her things are running smoothly on their end.

Armitage falters momentarily. “No, not-- no, I just thought you.” He stops, shuts his mouth to collect himself before continuing. “I understand that you're busy. I apologize.”

Sloane frowns at the holo. She wonders if he's lonely down there. From what she's gathered, Snoke is a reclusive type who prefers to work one-on-one, or at a distance. It's why he hasn't requested her presence since he began working with Armitage. It suits her, she can focus on the endless other things in her taskbook, but she hadn't really considered until now that Snoke might just be Armitage's only company down there on that rock. Maybe he's even a little homesick. But he's an officer now, not a child, and she is his commander, not his mother. She'd like to tell him it's been nice to see him again, ask him if he's sleeping well, eating all right, thank him for his call and tell him to call more regularly, but these are sentimental things not suitable for the kind of working relationship they have. Small talk is pointless and suits neither of them, anyway.

“Right,” she says, letting the matter drop. “If he wishes an audience, I will certainly grant him one at his convenience. But I trust you're handling things down there in my stead.”

He nods, straightening. “Affirmative. Will update you should anything change.”

“Good.”

She thanks him for his call and ends the transmission. As she slowly finishes her caf, she allows herself the idiotic fantasy of visiting him as if he _were_ her adopted son, but she scoffs and pushes the vision from her mind when she rises to prepare for bed. She had once foolishly tried to think of someone else as her surrogate child, but so long as she lives, she won't be making that mistake again.

 

 

The following exploratory campaigns to the Outer Rim go satisfactorily. More than a couple of the planets they land on are happy to see the Empire back, even if it's going by a different name these days. Sloane learns of famine and starvation region-wide, made worse by embargoes put in place by the New Republic long ago and since forgotten. Their citizens don't understand why no one is coming to help them. The First Order will. Sloane promises that.

Though she is loathe to admit it, the new propaganda strategy has been working well in this part of the galaxy. Sloane can tolerate it because Amari Gorecemi doesn't try to bend the truth to suit their needs; she takes the truth and presents it plainly: the New Republic neglects the Outer Rim because it doesn't see the territory as being valuable to its own selfish goals. The corruption begins from the senate, pandering politicians allowing the core worlds to prosper while the rest starve. Graphic images of suffering on the Outer Rim planets interspersed with Empire-era footage of lavish parties on Corsucant and Chandrila are enough to drive these desperate people to join the First Order. It's all a bit much for Sloane's taste, but she recognizes that not everyone understands the struggle as plainly as she does, some need their emotions invoked before they will pledge themselves to the cause. And it must be working because their assets are growing day by day: more ships, more kyber, more people eagerly willing to enlist. For glory. For progress. For the First Order.

Though she still has not payed a personal visit to Snoke's cold, remote world, Sloane has finally set aside a day to conference with the mysterious man over holo. That day is today. It's at the point now where it feels absurd that they have not yet spoken directly, though if Snoke thinks it as strange as she does, he hasn't let on. She had been the one to schedule this call, relaying the appointment through Hux, who later messaged her to confirm on Snoke's behalf.

She stands in the communications room of the _Eclipse_ now, electing to use the fancier official networking electronics over her personal device that she frequently uses to check in with her dispatched officers. She prepares herself for the call, going over what she plans to say as she checks her reflection after a droid has come in and fussed about, straightening her cape and command cap.

“If you're ready, Leader Sloane?” Her assistant says from behind a console.

She turns to face the recorder. “I am.”

She blinks a few times in rapid succession as the call goes out. When the feed is picked up by the other end, she tilts her chin up proudly and waits to be greeted. The transmission quality is not great, but she can see a gaunt humanoid figure cloaked in dark robes. He wears a hood pulled up over his face, which would probably annoy Sloane a lot more if the picture were more clear, but as she can barely make it out as is, she doesn't fixate on it.

“Ah, the esteemed Leader of the First Order, Rae Sloane,” he says. “An honor to finally speak directly.”

She inclines her head slightly, not quite a bow, but enough to respectfully acknowledge him. “The honor is Ours, sir. Forgive me, but is there a more fitting title I should use for you?”

“Some refer to me as Master,” he replies with an air of clinical indifference.

She grimaces inwardly, wishing the video wasn't on so she could roll her eyes. Master. Ha. Pompous ass. But she keeps her face neutral, responding: “Of course, Master Snoke. The First Order wishes to thank you for your contribution to and support of Our noble cause.”

If he recognizes her feigned deference, he gives no indication. “A noble cause indeed. I have been impressed with the Order for a long time. It takes after the Empire in so many ways, yet has improved in even more."

"I have heard you were acquainted with the late Emperor Palatine."

"Yes," Snoke says. "A regrettable loss, to be sure. It's left the Force unbalanced, but soon that shall be rectified."

She has nothing to say to that so she responds with a tight smile.

"It's a good thing, too, that there are loyalists who to continue his political work as well. He would be impressed by the ambition of your First Order, Leader Sloane," Snoke continues. "And your Colonel Hux represents you admirably as well. It is a pleasure to find such bright young minds, dedicated to the cause above all else.”

“Indeed,” she says, ignoring the urge to feel overly-protective of her dispatched colonel. “He tells me you are working on designs for a superweapon powered by dark energy, is that right?”

“Yes. This machine will drain quintessence from suns, absorbing their power to charge its superlaser. We are calling it the Starkiller. Hux himself came up with the name.”

Charming. “I see,” she says. She waits a beat before launching into the speech she's been rehearsing in her head all morning. “Master Snoke, I am well-aware this holo has been  
a long time coming, and I regret not being able to convene with you in person--”

“Please,” he interjects, holding up a grizzled hand. Her lips twitch in annoyance at having been interrupted. “I know how busy you must be. There is so much work to be done, and you are but one person trying to run an entire Empire, after all. Your preference to rule from afar is understandable as well. It can be dangerous, personally wandering into uncharted territories to colonize their kingdoms. Better to send envoys to carry out your orders. That is a benefit of being the leader, after all.”

Sloane thinks to mention that that wasn't exactly how she sees things, but can't come up with a way to say as much without sounding obstinately contrary, so she ignores it and moves on. “Regardless. I feel the time has come to meet each other in person. Our rapid growth could not have been possible without your generous contributions, and to thank you, I would like to extend to you an official invitation onboard the _Eclipse_. You would be treated as a guest of honor.”

“That will not be necessary, Leader Sloane. I prefer not to travel too far if it can be helped. And before you offer,” he continues as if picking the fleeting thought directly from her mind, “I'm afraid my meager base is hardly an accommodating place to host someone of your level of influence. I wouldn't want you to take time away from your duties to make a needless trip to my modest base. If you need to be in touch, a holocall will suffice, but I believe we can continue to liaise through your Colonel Hux, no? You trust his competency, do you not?”

Her brain works overtime as she tries to assess and analyze exactly what is happening here. Her instincts tell her this is a power ploy to edge her out, but she doesn't want to give the impression that her officers are incapable, and she _does_ trust Hux. Doesn't she?

“I do,” she says with nothing but confidence. “Colonel Hux is an irreplaceable asset to the First Order, and to myself in particular. There is no one more up to the task that him.”

The picture flickers, but she could swear she sees the bottom half of Snoke's covered face morph into an unnerving smile. She has said too much, perhaps. “Excellent. It is done, then. I look forward to continuing our work together, Leader Sloane. For the galaxy.”

“For the galaxy,” she nods. She signals to her assistant and he ends the transmission.

She stands in the center of the room for a moment longer, recollecting her thoughts. Dealings out here in the unexplored infinity often don't go as expected and the ability to improvise is key, but this conversation had taken so many subtle turns that she's been left feeling a little blindsided. She suspects Snoke thinks he dismissed _he_ r instead of the other way around. The audacity of it boils had blood and does little to allay her concerns about the man. She doesn't like him one bit. Fine, then, that they've agreed to liaise through Hux. Sloane would rather not speak to Snoke again herself, so all the better if she doesn't have to.

She's done her part in reaching out, anyway. She shakes her head and smooths down the front of her uniform, not acknowledging her assistant as she marches on to her next meeting. Her day is long from over, best not to waste time.

 

 

Another several months pass with more planets pledging themselves for the Order, and Sloane has been so busy, she doesn't even realize that she hasn't heard from Armitage since before her conference with Snoke. She's just finished a briefing with the general in charge of activities in the Outer Rim and is retiring to her quarters when her comm buzzes: a file being sent from _Hux, A._ She opens it to find the blueprints for that weapon he had mentioned the last time they spoke, the Starkiller, apparently, with a note written in the message body:  _The thermal oscillators are rudimentary, but I think they should suffice. We just might have done it, Rae! Glory to the First Order, long may it reign._

She glances over the designs without truly understanding as she walks and forwards the message on to Edridge, editing out the casual use of her first name before hitting send. Armitage is the only person who calls get Rae sometimes, and even that, she ought to admonish him for the lack of formality in an official document, but she can tell just from those three short sentences how excited he is to be sharing this technological breakthrough. No sense in tampering that enthusiasm over something so trivial. Besides, she almost likes the familiarity. Almost.

She returns to her quarters and orders her protocol droid to bring her a caf. Glancing over at her game pieces, still sitting proudly on her shelf, she settles into her couch and allows herself to reminisce. Time feels like it's going both too fast and too slow, all at once. Strange, that. Has it really been so long since the fall of the Empire, since Jakku? And are they really on the cusp of taking it all back? Perhaps this new weapon really will be the key that unlocks the rest of the galaxy.

He grew up so fast, already with his own charge and special projects. She always knew he had potential, from the very first time she'd spoken to him, surprised by his eloquence and sharpness, even at the age of five.

She's getting older, they all are, and yet there is still so much left to do.

 

There is one matter in particular that needs attention: a planet that promised to deliver a new generation of TIE fighters still hasn't come through. They're three months overdue now. Holocalls to the Nemulash leader have so far gone unanswered, and a special envoy's ship was recently denied landing clearance on the surface.

Ignoring the First Order is something that will not be tolerated under Sloane's watch. Perhaps its time to pay them a personal visit. No one can deny landing clearance to the emperor.

One of the many benefits of autocratic rather than democratic rule is that she doesn't have to wait until it's too late to take action. Doesn't have to ask for permission or plead and pay for votes. Her advisers have assured her that it is in the Order's best interest to interfere sooner rather than later, before they have a chance to mount a defense, and before the empire is seen as weak or compromising.

They probably think that with all of the recent activity the First Order has been conducting in the known galaxy, they're off the hook. Sloane needs them to know that they are not. So she will go.

She is prepared to be fair and accommodating as long as they are as well. That, however, is wherein lies the problem. The Nemulash are not known for being rational negotiators. They are thick, dim-witted, and rarely turn down the chance for a fight, despite the odds against them. To resist the Order would only be playing to the pride and ego of the Nemulash ruler, not the best interests of his citizens. But Sloane knows all too well about leaders with pride and ego. Easily provoked, but easily defeated. She will go, and if they are indeed provoked, she will defeat them. But she will need to bring back up, just in case.

Her droid returns bearing a mug of caf.

"Ugh, is this caf or is this water?" She asks, offended, after taking a sip.

"It is caf with standard ratio caffeination,” the droid informs her. “New nutrition guidelines suggest no more than level 2 on regulation caf makers. The level 3 that you are accustom to is far too high."

Sloane pinches her eyes shut. "Since this is already made and I do not wish to wait, I will drink it. But next time, you will use level 3. Understood?"

"Understood, ma'am." The droid nods.

"Good," she says pointedly. "I would hate to have to reprogram you."

The droid stiffens. "Understood, ma'am. And duly noted."

She dismisses the droid and sips her poor excuse for a caf, looking up which of her commanders she will be able to pull from their scheduled affairs to accompany her as support on this trip to Nemula. Many of the more senior ones have been dispatched to the Outer Rim and she's not wildly familiar with the ones closer to home. She'll have to read through their files to find someone she can trust.

Her datapad pings and she sees a message from Edridge: _The math all checks out, the oscillators would hold, but barely. We might be able to find a way to strengthen them, or at least boost their defenses. Too bad Hux followed his father as a commander. We could always use more minds like his in our engineering team._

She smiles, pleased. Then, she thinks about it. Hux _is_ a commander. And it would be nice to go on a mission with him at her side again, for old time's sake. Now that he's older and more experienced, it wouldn't be a simple field trip, but a chance for him to prove to her how capable he has become at not only observing how a diplomatic visit goes, but actively participating in one himself. And, she does need the physical backup as well. Who better for the task that Armitage and his supersoliders?

It's a good plan. She sets her unfinished mug aside and pulls up her holocall app.

Armitage seems surprised that she's called him, but gives her a warm smile. He looks tired, but she supposes the same could probably be said for herself. She doesn't waste time with greetings and pleasantries, simply explains the nature of the problem and asks if he wouldn't mind joining her on this trip.

He thinks about it a moment and frowns. “I would be tempted, but I think we're close to perfecting the preliminary designs of the superweapon I sent you. There might be a way to improve those oscillators to strengthen the weapon's core stability. It will be hard to convince Snoke that I should take time off for this.”

Convince _Snoke_? Sloane arches an eyebrow at him. “I didn't realize you took orders from Snoke now.”

He looks startled, opens his mouth to protest, then thinks better of it and bows. “I apologize, leader Sloane. I only meant--”

She puts up a hand. “I understand you don't want to be taken away from your research.”

“It's for the good of the Order,” he offers. “If we can get this right, it will be our magnum opus. The crown jewel in our arsenal. The weapon to end this war, and solidify the First Order's place in the galaxy.”

This obsessive diligence is one of the things she's always liked about him, his fastidious commitment to perfection, even from a young age, but she sees the darkened circles under his weary eyes. She knows he's juggling this weapon design, the command of his soldiers, and overseeing the Stormtrooper training program. He needs a break. Though this would hardly be a pleasure cruise, it could be a nice change up to his regularly scheduled daily grind. A working holiday of sorts. She supposes he doesn't see it that way. Pity.

Perhaps he senses her disappointment, because he asks: “Do you believe you will be putting yourself in danger on this mission? If that is the case, I will dispatch my best soldiers to accompany you and ensure your safety.”

“There may be some danger,” she says, honestly. “There always is risk of such in these sorts of negotiations. But it's more that I have been advised to take a hard line stance on this matter to discourage future dissent and defaults, and I thought it would make a stronger statement if I were accompanied by my most promising officer and his human weapons.”

His eyes flicker as he recognizes that thinly-veiled praise. _Got him._

“Besides,” she shrugs with a coy smile. “There may be ice cream waiting for you at the end of it if you do well.”

He laughs a bit. “Ha, I haven't had one of those in ages! For that, I suppose I can take a few days.”

“Good,” she nods, serious again. “I'll expect you onboard the _Eclipse_ this time next week. We can leave from here. Come expecting a fight,” she adds. “This planet has been known for putting pride before reason. I'd like to avoid combat if we can, but I fear it might not be possible.”

“It is always best to be prepared for the worst. I will assemble my best soldiers and report to the _Eclipse_ next week.”

It occurs to her after she hangs up that Armitage hasn't once asked for shore leave in the entire time he's been working with Snoke, only making that one brief trip to Achriodan for his father's funeral. Was that really the last time she saw him in person? It feels like ages ago. It'll be good to see him again and to watch how he conducts himself as a commander.

As she climbs into bed, she finds herself actually looking forward to this mission far more than any other she's been on in a long time.

 

 

“You know what the stakes are, correct?” Sloane asks, staring straight ahead as she speaks. She's not exactly afraid of what they are going into because she has absolute confidence in their ability to subdue the Nemulash, even should they attempt something as foolish as an attack, but still feels a bit keyed-up and on edge.

“Affirmative." Armitage replies. "We will see to this matter, one way or another.”

“Good.”

As they make their approach, Sloane sits strapped in to a hard bench, Armitage to her right, two of his soldiers sitting on the bench directly across from them. She'd been surprised that Zips was not one of the two Armitage had elected to bring on this trip, but he informs her that Zips was killed ("taken out", as he puts it) in the line of duty about a year ago. There had been no ceremony.

"Ah," she says.

Over the years spent in relatively close proximity, Sloane had gotten used to these feral orphans, or at least desensitized to their inherent violence, but seeing them again here with their blank, gaping stares after so long is a little jarring. They look hardened, hungrier, but just as emotionless as ever.

She never did learn where Brendol sourced these children. Not so much children anymore, she supposes, if they ever were. They're hardly more than killing machines. She's seen droids with more self-will. But, perhaps it's their lack of will that makes it so easy to disregard the fact that they could have been average human beings had their lives gone a different direction. She snaps herself out of this dangerous line of thinking that leads only to self-doubt by reminding herself that it's no fault of her own that they've come to this point. For all she knows, this mindless sort of purpose in life could have been a blessing. On very rare occasions, she's even fantasized about freedom from choice herself, released from this weight of responsibility for saving her galaxy. To not have to struggle with the nuances of _how_ to do that, but just respond unthinkingly to orders of _what_ to do, sometimes, that sounds all too appealing. But those are only brief thought experiments. She's conditioned herself not to let these thoughts wander too far from their carefully manicured path. She knows none other but this one she's on to become galactic emperor would have ever truly suited her ambitious mind, heart, and soul.

And with that ambition comes the responsibility for doing it right, so she will take it along with everything else. That's all she needs to know. She turns her attention away from the hard-eyed orphans and prepares herself for landing.

 

They arrive planetside and are greeted by two slovenly-dressed Nemulash guards of indiscriminate age. This is a race that long outlives Humans, perhaps even Wookiees, and as such Sloane finds it impossible to tell if they are adults, teenagers, or even elders. Regardless, they stand only slightly taller than her, with a thick leathery pink hide and beady eyes perched on short stalks. The closest thing Sloane has ever seen to one is perhaps a Gungan. It's possible they are a related species, though the Nemulash are hardly that tall and lack the amphibious look that the Gungans have.

Theirs is a windy planet, and thankfully so, for the wet heat would otherwise be stifling. The sooner they can finish their business here, the better. Sloane clips her command hat firmly to her hair before disembarking and stands at parade rest at the bottom of the shuttle ramp, Armitage just a half-step behind her and his two soldiers behind him, side by side.

She sees the Nemulash exchange looks with each other at the sight of her oddly young entourage, but they do not remark on it to her. They are all apologies and excuses for the lack of proper communication recently, but Sloane has greater concerns than these two escorts and responds to their blabbering with a silent, annoyed glare.

After the four are checked for weapons and cleared, the two guards beckon Sloane to follow them and she does, her white cape whipping in the fierce wind. Armitage and his troops follow close behind.

They are brought into the crude citadel that these people call their “palace” and told to wait in the receiving chamber, His Majesty Vizier Ghiuli is still on his way. Amazing, she thinks, that she had sent the precise time of their arrival, had it confirmed last week, yet still the man is tardy. She's not impressed.

“Do you expect this will take long?” Armitage asks under his breath when the guards have left them.

“I'm not sure,” she replies quietly. “For their sake, it better not.”

Armitage nods.

She has him command his soldiers to hang back a bit. Intimidation, while it does have a certain appeal, is not her favorite tactic of negotiation. She does prefer it to the use of brute force, which will be an inevitability if both peaceful negotiations and intimidation fail, but ideally, she'd like to handle this diplomatically if at all possible. She somehow doubts that it will be, though.

Finally, Vizier Ghiuli enters the room, dressed in gaudy robes, flanked by six bulky soldiers wearing heavy plated armor. The first two wield polished spears, the other four with blasters held diagonally across their chest. All of their eyes are fixated on Sloane. It seems her doubts on diplomacy were indeed well-founded.

But if they are hoping to scare her, they will be sorely disappointed. All they've succeeded in doing so far is irritating her further. As Ghiuli takes to his throne, three guards on either side of him, Sloane wastes no time beating around the bush: she wants to know why those TIE fighters haven't come in yet, and she wants to know _now_.

"Leader Sloane," Ghiuli shrugs with a smile. "I understand how desperate you must be to have these ships. I heard about the Order's recent run in with Mandalorian pirates. Such losses-- what a shame. But, you see, these TIE fighters you ordered ended up being a bit more costly than initial estimates." Sloane knows exactly where he's going with this and she grits her teeth, waiting for him to continue. “So if the First Order would be willing to double its investment in Ghiuli Holdings, I believe we can have the entire fleet ready by--”

“No,” she interrupts. “The First Order is the galaxy's legitimate ruling authority and we will not be undermined. You will deliver our TIEs to us at the conclusion of this meeting. We will not renegotiate.”

“Heh. I'm afraid you're going to have to. The ships are ready, of course, but it's double or nothing for delivery. I know how badly you need these ships for your expansionary campaigns.”

Worse than Hutts, she swears. “I would advise you to uphold your end of our deal, Vizier, you will not be getting a better one.”

And yet, as she predicted, he declines again. So much for diplomatic negotiations. Now on to step two. Without a word, she looks over at Armitage. He takes his cue.

His heels click together and his posture stiffens. Behind him, his two soldiers emerge quietly.

The Nemulash scoffs. “Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?”

“Consider it a warning,” Sloane says. "We took care of the Mandalorians and we will not hesitate to take care of the Nemulash."

The Nemulash laughs openly now. With a short motion of his three-fingered hand he summons forth his own guards: the two with spears step forward, their weapons crossed in front of him, the four with blasters hold them cocked and ready, one pointed at each of the visitors.

Ghiulu grins, looking from Sloane to Hux. "You believe you can take down my seasoned warriors with two of your child soldiers?"

"No," Hux says calmly. The Nemulash blinks, frowning. "I believe," Hux continues, "I can take down your seasoned warriors with _one_ of my child soldiers."

He raises a hand, two fingers sticking up. He makes a summoning motion and the tall one with the tar-dark hair steps forward, expressionless. Hux closes his first and brings his arm down hard, cutting through the air at his side. Sloane doesn't look away as the violence unfolds.

The boy attacks. He leaps through the air, the heels of his feet landing in one guard's neck and he extends to deliver a knock-out blow to another standing beside him. The man drops his blaster as he falls to the floor, unconscious. The orphan soldier lands in a crouch as other four other guards now scramble to surround him. But he's quicker than they are. Their fire misses him entirely. In the blink of an eye, he's taken one of their spears and pierced straight through the throat of another, knocked the legs out from under a second, and tucks into a roll to dodge blaster fire from a third. He pops up just inches before one guard to snatch the blaster from her claws. He shoots her dead, then fires on each of the ones still breathing. _Bang, bang, bang_.

He wastes no time admiring his work, simply turns and sticks the barrel up under the drooping jowls of Vizier Ghiuli as other rifle-bearers file into the room, weapons at the ready. The dark-haired soldier's breathing remains steady, as if the exertion was nothing to him. It wasn't.

"All right!" Ghiuli concedes, his hands up. "All right! You've made your point. We will agree to the terms. You can take your ships. Get out!"

"I'm afraid the terms have changed, Vizier." Sloane cuts in, taking a bold step forward. "It looks like we will be renegotiating after all. This would have been much easier if you'd been more accommodating from the start."

"What? What more do you want from us?"

“Instead of the _overly_ generous sum of credits we had agreed to pay you initially, we will be taking the ships you promised us at 50% of our original offer. I believe you will find this still a generous deal.”

"Generous?!" Ghuili scoffs. "This is thievery!"

"What's generous is letting you leave this room with your life," Hux says, stepping forward and surprising Sloane. "Don't make us change our terms again, Vizier." Sloane's eyebrows arch ever so slightly as she watches him take this initiative. "Call off your guards."

"Yes, yes, fine. We accept the terms." Ghiuli says as the dark-haired boy nudges the business-end of the blaster deeper into his leathery skinfolds. Ghiuli waves off his rifle-bearers, who hesitate momentarily before shouldering their weapons.

The boy still has the blaster cocked and ready to fire into the Nemulash's skull.

"Hit him," Hux commands. Sloane's eyes snap over to Armitage but he doesn't register her shocked disapproval. His own stare is fixed on Ghiuli as he is clubbed in the head with the blaster barrel and yelps in pain.

"Again."

The boy complies before Sloane has a chance to intervene. The palace guards raise their weapons again.

"Call off your guards," Armitage commands again.

Ghiuli frantically waves them off, shielding his bleeding face with one arm.

"Go, please! Take the ships, they're yours! Just leave me alone!"

"You will release an official statement, addressed to the rest of the galaxy, admitting your mistakes. You will detail what happens when one refuses to cooperative with the First Order and you will be appreciative of our mercy." Hux says, and it sends a chill through Sloane's blood, curling uncomfortably in her gut. She doesn't like this, but to undermine him now would be an even bigger loss of face for them both.

Through tears, the Nemulash says that he will comply.

Hux nods and the boy moves back, snapping to attention, holding the blaster barrel-down at his side. Hux takes it from him and holds it in his hands, as if considering to use it on Ghiuli himself. He looks up sharply at the Vizier and for a brief moment Sloane swears he's going to do it, but he then holsters the weapon on his own utility belt and defers back to her. Blinking, she clears her throat and suggests they wrap this meeting up quickly so everyone can be on their way. Later, she will have to decide how to deal with what has transpired here.

 

"Did you see how he cowered?" Armitage boasts later, when they're back aboard the _Eclipse_ , striding through the corridor towards Rae's rooms. He's got a wicked grin on his face and it unpleasantly reminds her of Brendol. "He was terrified!"

She attempts to smile but it comes out as a grimace. Despite her many years in the service, or perhaps because of them, she's still not thrilled when negotiations descend as they did today. She recognizes the necessity of violence on occasion, of course, but never wants to see it become the driving force behind her Empire. And terrorism, surely not. "Don't become too reliant on intimidation and bloodshed to get your way, Armitage. It will eventually provoke a redoubling of resistance."

He doesn't flinch at the gentle rebuff, nor does he try to tamper his enthusiasm. "He wouldn't resist a thing right now. We could demand anything, and he would be powerless to deny it."

She stops dead in her tracks. "Is that really your vision of our Empire?" She asks sharply, turning to pierce him with her gaze. This catches his attention and he stops, stunned. "You grossly overstepped your boundaries and reduced nuanced First Order diplomacy to needless brutality. He had already surrendered and agreed to our terms when you ordered him to be beaten. Is this the kind of message you want to send to the galaxy about the First Order?"

"N-- no, Leader Sloane," he says. "I-- I apologise."

"Good." She walks past him, leaving him standing in the hallway, now unsure if the open invitation to her quarters is extended to him or not. Good. Let him sweat.

He must go back to his own quarters because she spends the rest of the cycle alone in her room, busying herself with other important FO business and trying not to remember how much he seemed to enjoy exerting his power back in Ghiuli's throneroom.

It was a victory, that much cannot be denied. They simultaneously solved their TIE fighter shortage problem while also demonstrating, undeniably, that dissent and trickery will not be tolerated. But that sinister look in his eyes. That eagerness to engender fear. There is a time and a place to appreciate well-deserved violence, but to suggest it should be used indiscriminately?

Where had he picked that up? From his father? Rae has always worried a little about how Brendol's cruel influence might have affected the boy, but did she not see to that properly when he was a child? And besides, Brendol's been dead for years now, and had been largely estranged from Armitage since Jakku. Then, what, is this detachment from civility a product of his relative isolation on Snoke's world? Or influence from Snoke himself? Sloane hardly knows a thing about that mysterious figure's code of ethics, but maybe that has been a gross oversight on her part, taking the handouts without properly considering the source.

Perhaps it's time to do some investigation, but for now what she knows is that she has never encouraged wanton cruelty, nor has she ever seen Armitage enjoy such a thing until today, and she never wants to see that again.

 

The next day, Armitage goes back to Snoke's planet without fanfare. She doesn't go to see him off. His next report is presented to her via holocom two weeks later with nothing but formality. Strictly business. She thanks him and he bows, expressionless as one of his soldiers.

She shuts off her comm and sits for a moment with it in her hands. A fleeting doubt crosses her mind: had she been too sharp with him over the Nemulash incident? No. She was justified, she knows. He'd overstepped and she'd dealt with it, too bad if his feelings were hurt. If he wants to act like a scolded dog and maintain a distance, that's fine by her. He is one of many officers under her command, after all, and she is a busy woman with no time to spare over one's bruised ego.

But as months go by and still they remain distant, worry over that incident's implications still trouble her mind. She knows that if it were any of her other colonels, she would have no trouble reprimanding them and moving on, and she would like to say the same is true for Armitage, but in her heart, she knows that's not entirely true. Something here lingers. Against all attempts to convince herself otherwise, she does still have a soft spot for that boy and wants to see him live up to her stupidly sentimental fantasy of taking his place at her side, heir to the galaxy. But she won't have it if he plans to do so with malice and hatred in his heart. The galaxy must be ruled by order, not sadism.

The more she thinks about how he has changed from that bright-eyed boy who would often show up in her quarters asking for nothing but company to this detached, unyielding young man whose only communication to her is work-related, the more she is convinced it's got something to do with Snoke.

Snoke, whom she knows very little about. Snoke, who seems to rule from the shadows. It reminds her unpleasantly of something from her past. Of some _one_.

Has Snoke been corrupting Armitage as Rax corrupted Adea? The very idea sends white-hot rage through her veins. She won't go through this again.

In her down time, she starts re-reads old reports from Armitage to see what, if anything she can learn of Snoke. Unsurprisingly, there isn't much, so she digs deeper.

She studies the other planets in Snoke's system and finds that most of them are so primitive, they hardly even make their own trips into space. Most of the commonfolk probably wouldn't even realize there _are_ other planets in their system. She has to wonder if Snoke picked it because of that fact.

Eventually she decides to start with the one with the biggest population, which is still quite modest. There is no one else she trusts enough to delegate this task to, so after managing to reschedule her meetings and appointments, a sentinel K0 droid pilots a ship that takes her to the capital city of the small rocky world. She invents a new identity for herself as a simple academic documenting the galography of this system and sets out to see what else she can learn.

This kind of secretive detective work gives her a certain thrill, but it keeps reminding her of her dealings with Rax and she's kicking herself for not noticing the parallels sooner. She should have acted on her suspicions from day one. It's just that she had wanted to take the galaxy so badly, it had overridden her good sense. How painfully common. She hopes she's gotten ahead of the game this time.

She spends two days trolling taverns, bars, and the occasional governmental agency, asking if anyone knows bloody anything about the galaxy outside their planet, but, much to her frustration, no one does. As it was with Rax, she finds no one who can tell her anything of Snoke, or even his world. And there aren't even Archives or libraries out here that she can comb through for information. Stars, they have so much work to do for this galaxy.

She returns to the _Eclipse_ empty-handed and void of any traitorous evidence, but no less suspicious of Snoke's influence. Is it possible she's just growing paranoid? They say it happens to all leaders eventually-- they taste power, and then the fear of losing it consumes and dominates any more noble agenda they may have had. But her fundamental beliefs have remained the same: strength through order. Snoke's mystery is an outlier to this order. Right? Nevermind. She'll try again somewhere else next week.

 

 

More months pass. The Order's influence grows, even the New Republic knows of their existence now, but her endeavor to learn about Snoke has continued to prove fruitless. Armitage periodically submits his final approvals on training programs and updates her on the progress of Starkiller-- ground has finally been broken now-- but it's all done quite formally, and otherwise that channel stays radio silent. The awkward rift is settling in now, she can feel it.

It only makes her more determined to find out more about Snoke and his influence. On her fifth or sixth undercover excursion, someone suggests she visit an old holy area and meditate on the ruins for an answer in the Force. She barely resists the urge to roll her eyes. With a tight smile, she thanks them and leaves, deciding this is a gargantuan waste of time. On her way back to her shuttle, though, her droid mentions that the old ruins are only a short walk from where they are docked. She's tempted to say forget it, but they've come this far, so she tells Kay-Oh to lead the way. She _won't_ be doing any meditation, though, thank you very much.

As expected, all they find there is a pile of rubble. She feels nothing.

“I think we're done here.”

They return to the shuttle and go back to the _Eclipse_. She goes to bed frustrated. That night, though, Rae dreams she's back on that planet, standing in the middle of that debris-scattered field.

The sky is deep crimson and she looks over the broken buildings, long overgrown with sprawling plant life. She walks through a crumbled archway and sees a message chiseled into the wall in ancient Aurebesh. Squinting at it in the dark, she reads: _The balance must be maintained._ Whatever that means. She frowns.

She looks again and there's another message written just below: _trust the Force._ Her lip curls in annoyance. There's nothing for her to learn here. She can't access the Force. And cryptic messages are less than useless. The sky is darkening and she just wants to go back to her ship.

She turns to do so, but before she can take so much as a step, she runs smack into a tall figure dressed in all back. She stumbles back, looks up, and gasps when she sees the mask of Darth Vader boring down on her.

“There will soon be a great disturbance in the Force.” He tells her. “Be careful, Rae Sloane.”

She wakes with a start, cold sweat drenching her clammy skin and visions of the dream fading fast. Mentally, she scrambles to remember it, but the harder she tries, the quicker the dream slips away. In only a few seconds, all she remembers is her terror and something about the Force.

The Force. Snoke claims to have access to it. That could be a lead after all.

Her heart still hammering in her chest, she gets up and retrieves her datapad. She searches any and all Imperial Archives for anything related to the Force or that mystical old Jedi religion, but she comes up with nothing even remotely insightful. Mentions of the old Jedi Council, of its decimation. Nothing. Perhaps if she could command the Force as Vader did, she could divine some meaning from all of this. But she can't, so there is no point in continuing this dead-end crusade. She practically throws her datapad back onto her desk.

Slag it, if she wants to know something so badly, and she's afraid she does, she's just going to have to go direct to the source. She'll pay Snoke himself a visit. It is her Empire, after all, and she can make these demands of those under her rule. Besides, she can't let him think she fears any Force powers he may or may not possess.

 

“Leader Sloane,” Armitage says by way of greeting when he answers her holocall a few hours later, morning planet-side. She notices he looks even more tired than he had before. Uniform still neatly pressed to perfection, hair slicked down neatly under his cap, but his eyes betray a kind of exhaustion beyond his years. Perhaps he's not sleeping well, either. “What can I do for you?”

“I'd like to call an audience with Snoke.”

Armitage blinks. “Oh. Snoke isn't on-planet right now, I'm afraid. But I will let him know when he returns and can schedule an appointment for you in the meantime. Is there a date you had in mind?”

“He's off-planet?” She frowns. “I thought he didn't travel.”

“He doesn't normally. This is the first time I've seen him leave, actually. He informed me he was going away on Force-related matters and left. That was all. He gave no specifics.”

Sloane grits her teeth, annoyed at this unfortunate, and frankly suspect, timing. “And you didn't think to inform me?”

“I-- I didn't realize it was a matter worthy of your attention, Leader Sloane.”

She presses her lips into a thin line and tries to scale back her irritation. Of course he wouldn't have known. There's no need to be paranoid. He doesn't know about her covert investigations or her thus-unfounded suspicions that Snoke is manipulating him. She almost blurts this out, but holds her tongue when she remembers how Adea had betrayed her confidence when Sloane had asked her for intel on Rax. She won't make that mistake again. She won't.

But seeing him standing there on the holo, looking so tired, but trying so hard to seem otherwise, she is struck by just how much she misses the days of their easier relationship. When she was sure that he trusted her and was loyal to her completely. When she knew their vision for the Order was the same. She's been toying with an idea in the back of her mind for a long while now, and seeing him here now, considering her options, she decides to set it into action. It's been long enough.

“How are you, anyway,” she says, and the question hangs awkwardly in the air, as if he has never been asked such a thing and has no idea how to respond.

He recovers quickly, though. “I'm pleased to report that operations on Starkiller are going according to plan, and the most recent--”

“No.” She cuts him off with a frown. “I'm asking about _you_. Your general well-being.”

“Oh,” he blinks, looking perplexed. Does it really surprise him that much that she might want to check up on such a thing?

“Have you been sleeping, Armitage?”

“I-- what?” He flinches. “I... sleep.”

“Enough? You look exhausted.”

“I'm fine, Leader Sloane! I know you're busy with First Order affairs, but if you think the quality of my work has been slipping--”

“Stop,” she says, again silencing him with a raised hand. “I'm not criticizing you, Armitage. I'm just...” she sighs.

She's come to slowly realize that, though she's refused to acknowledge it for so long, he really is the closest thing she has to family, to a friend, even. And this is something she doesn't want to let go of. She cringes to think she's growing sentimental as she gets older, but if there is anyone capable of running this Order as efficiently and successfully as she is, it's Armitage, and she will murder Snoke with her bare hands three ways by sundown if she finds that that old wizard thinks he can take that from her.

“I'm worried about you.” _You're like a son to me_.

His lips part slightly, but he is speechless. She watches him snap his jaw shut again and swallow.

“When was the last time you had a break?” She asks him, mostly to end this awkward silence.

He gives a slight shake of his head. “I'm too busy for that, R-- Leader Sloane.”

She frowns. Rationally, she knows that his decision to put work before personal interests is something commendable, not to be admonished, but she's less sure about this unhealthy obsession with doing so. “Then I will command you to take one.”

For the second time, he looks stunned into a silence, though it doesn't last long. “But-- my work. Between Starkiller and the new academy year starting soon, this would be terrible timing. Not to mention, Snoke wants to see--”

“Enough!” She interrupts. “I don't care what Snoke wants to see. Snoke does not command authority over you, I do and I am summoning you back to the _Eclipse_ for a mandatory rest period. Finish what you're working on and report to the bridge within the next seven days, that is an order.”

He looks mildly horrified. “Yes, ma'am,” he bows.

"The _Eclipse_ will be docked at the base on Magradha. I will forward you the coordinates for you to enter into your shuttle. I will see you in one standard week." She says and ends the transmission.

Her covert investigations may have turned up nothing and approaching Snoke directly may currently be unfeasible, but she didn't get to where she is today by simply accepting a dead end. If there is something she wants, she will find a way to get it.

 

Armitage arrives on the _Eclipse_ seven days later and reports to the bridge, as requested.

"You wished to see me, Leader Sloane?" He says.

Sloane turns from the console she's studying and finds him standing at parade rest, uniform crisply pressed, not a hair out of place.

"Colonel Hux," she says, looking him over. "Do you know why I've summoned you here?"

His lips twitch and he swallows. "You believe I need a rest."

She clasps her hands behind her back and stares him down. "Indeed, you do." She says, taking long, slow strides towards him. "But that is not all."

She can see his eyes searching hers for meaning, but he keeps quiet.

"In your last report, you mentioned ground has recently been broken on Starkiller Base, correct?" He nods. "Between plans for that, the training academy, and commanding your own special forces, you have been so busy working that I don't think you've even realized how many field hours you've racked up over the years. Far more than any other colonel in the Order. I know you're tenacious, but you'll burn out if you keep up like this, Armitage. I want to see you general by age 30, not dead by overwork."

He doesn't flinch in the slightest, but she can see him silently pleading with his eyes to let him continue his work and not take him off the Starkiller project.

"Therefore, Armitage Hux." She stands directly before him now, finally allowing herself a smile. "I'm officially promoting you to General of the First Order as of today."

His eyebrows raise and his jaw falls open slightly.

The rest of the crew on the bridge turn and burst into applause, some rising to give a standing ovation.

"Congratulations," she says, extending a hand, which he takes and shakes vigorously. "There will be a small ceremony later tonight to make it official. Nothing too lavish, but I think you'll find it appropriate."

He thanks her profusely, then turns to shake hands with the others on the bridge, accepting their congratulations with a wide smile.

The ceremony takes place in a small on-planet ballroom that night. Sloane and Hux exchange small smiles as she presents him with his general's stripes and later he is led to a star destroyer she's had commissioned for him months ago: the _Finalizer_.

If she hadn't known him as well as she did, she might have missed the palpable excitement radiating from him as he dragged his fingertips across a brand new, state-of-the-art console, his eyes alight. Despite her wider uncertainty, it feels good to see him like this. His pride gives her pride, and she's glad for it.

“Thank you, Auntie Rae,” he says in a quiet voice when everyone else has left and it's just the two of them standing on the bridge of his new command ship. "This must have taken months to construct. And I can't even guess how many credits."

She shrugs. It wasn't cheap, and it certainly didn't happen overnight. But, as she mentioned at the ceremony, she's known for a very long time that this day would come, and she's been preparing it for a while. He's already long exceeded the minimum number of hours worked to qualify for the position, but she's been waiting for everything to fully come together before making it official. With so many things coming to a head now, she decided it was time.

“It's customary for a general to receive a new ship. And you've certainly earned it, Armitage." She tells him.

“I won't let you down.”

“I should hope not.”

She leaves him to admire his new ship and goes back to her room on the _Eclipse_. It's dark now, so she pours herself a glass of wine and stands looking out her viewport for a time, imagining that all of the stars and planets she can see are hers. None of them are impoverished, none of them hungry, their citizens don't worry about crime or war because the First Order is taking care of them now. It's such a daunting goal, but she's not about to let it go. She hasn't come this far to only come this far. She loses herself in thought and only comes back to reality when her doorchime rings. She checks the camera feed on her desk and sees Armitage standing outside her door. She buzzes him in and pours herself another glass of wine. She feels she's going to need it.

“It's incredible,” Armitage says, taking quick strides into her reading room. “I've never seen a ship so advanced.”

She smiles softly. “The designer comes from an Outer Rim planet and I asked her to fit it with all the latest technology. Not even New Republic ships have what yours does.”

His grin widens. She offers him a glass of wine and he accepts.

“To General Hux,” she toasts.

“To the First Order,” he corrects.

They sip their wine over a game of holochess, with Armitage filling her in on the work being done on Starkiller. He tells her the kyber reserves have surpassed even the most conservative estimates and the first demolition squads have been sent to the surface to hollow out the planet's core and install rocket ports at strategic points. The first phase of many designed to turn this planet into a mobile weapon. It's all going according to plan, he says.

"Excellent. You're still taking a week of mandatory rest, by the way. But once that's over, I'm planning on relocating you to Starkiller. You will be able to better oversee operations if you're on-planet," she says, bringing her attacker out of hiding.

Armitage makes a conservative move to shield one of his pieces, then looks up at her, frowning. “As you wish, but what about our connection with Snoke?"

"Ah," she says, feigning nonchalance. "Has he returned from his Force-vacation yet?"

"No," Armitage replies, still frowning. "He gave no indication of where he was going or when he would be back. I'm sorry you couldn't conference with him before he left."

"Yes, unfortunate timing," she says, returning her attention to the board. "Anyway. I was thinking I might assign someone else to his planet now that you'll be posted on Starkiller."

"What? No!" Armitage practically shouts. "With all due respect, I am already familiar with the way he operates and have built up a strong rapport with him already. It would be a mistake to send someone new in to have to learn it all from scratch. I can continue to perform both roles from Starkiller."

 _Interesting_. "I'll think about it," she says, not taking her eyes from the board. "We might just disengage from his base altogether."

"After everything he's done to help us?"

She hums and taps her cheek with her finger. "He certainly has done a lot," she says, sliding a piece.

"He can do more," Armitage insists.

Sloane declines to respond. Armitage drops the subject and shifts to lean over the board, looking for his next move. He takes his time. She considers her next move as well.

“Whatever became of the native population of Starkiller?” She asks as he finally decides to move a piece out into the open.

"They were successfully relocated to Luca long before construction began.”

“And that operation met no resistance?” She slides a pawn forward three spaces, into Hux's territory.

Armitage shrugs, not taking his eyes from the board. “Some. There were initial skirmishes, but a peacekeeping unit was deployed to keep the conflicts to a minimum.” He captures a pawn.

She nods, knowing full-well that this 'peacekeeping' situation is being downplayed. She squints and makes her next move, reciprocating the capture. “I image the natives of Luca feel as if their lands are being invaded.”

Armitage moves a piece and takes another pawn. “Indeed, that is a sentiment shared by some. But we tell them it is for the good of the galaxy at large.”

“Do you think they believe that?”

“It doesn't matter. It is the truth, and if they refuse to cooperate, we will make them. The galaxy must bow to superior powers. If they fear us, they will submit more readily.”

While she doesn't necessarily disagree with the sentiment, she needs to know where it is coming from. “Hmm, fear as a weapon. Is this sentiment shared by Snoke?” She asks as she knocks out one of his defenders.

Armitage pouts at the loss. “Snoke cares little for the inhabitants or their plights. He's thinking of the bigger picture.” He takes an attacker from her arsenal. “Why don't you trust him, Rae? You have never trusted him. It makes me feel you don't trust me and my judgment.”

She arches her eyebrows so high, so fast she thinks they might go flying off. “If I didn't trust you, do you think I would have had you promoted, Armitage, or executed?”

Her sharpness catches his attention and he dares a glace up. She sips her wine and fixes him with a pointed stare. Her plan is well in motion now. “Anyway,” she returns her eyes to the board. “I asked you a question.” She makes a bold, reckless move, placing her most powerful piece, the Queen, directly in the line of capture, unshielded. “Our strength from their fear. Is this your vision for the galaxy, or is it Snoke's?”

He frowns again. “There is no reason the two visions cannot be aligned.” He looks surprised when he notices that she's made such an obvious mistake, then smiles and captures her Queen easily.

“Indeed.” That's what she expected he would do. He was too excited about taking away her advantage, it's now left his Imperator completely unguarded. He should really know better by now, but she had counted on the fact that he wouldn't have suspected her of setting him up like this. The game will be over in two turns. “The problem comes,” she says, making her penultimate move. Suddenly he sees her hidden attacker and realizes his mistake. She sees his eyes darting around the board, looking for an escape, but there's no going back now. “When those visions do not align with my own.”

She releases her piece and sits back, meeting his eyes with a hard stare when he looks up, confounded. “Snoke is working you over. I can see his influence on you, changing you into someone I don't know if I can trust.”

“Auntie Rae, I--”

“Don't you Auntie Rae me, Armitage Hux. I have known you since you were a child no taller than my boots. I have long envisioned you taking the reigns after I am gone. There's no one more fit for the job. But the strength of my Empire is derived from order, not fear. Reason, not brutality. Law, not sabotage. I won't stand to see it corrupted from the inside, especially not by some outsider who is playing you to take it for himself.”

The color drains from his face.

“Make your move, Armitage,” she says coolly.

His eyes comb over the board, but it doesn't matter what he does at this point, the game will end the same. He quietly slides a piece and Sloane then takes his Imperator, setting off virtual fireworks in her color above the holoboard. Game over.

She leans in closely over the table to speak in a dangerous whisper. ”Just because someone hasn't betrayed you before, doesn't mean they won't eventually.”

“I-- what are you saying, Rae? Are you threatening me?”

 _Is_ she? She's killed people before with her bare hands. Murdering Rax had been vindicating, empowering. It felt good to take down those who underestimated her. But then Adea's face flashes in her mind again, as it does all too often. Sorrow, and rage, surges through her veins.

She stands and stalks over to her viewport. She stares out into the void for a very long time without speaking. Her side throbs as her mind goes back to the Wexleys, yet again. Enemies, yet, oddly enough, the only people she's ever been truly right to trust. The others? Count Vidian. Counsellor Rax. Adea. All people who she'd once thought of as allies, friends, even family. All had turned on her. But that was the hard part about betrayal: it always came at the hands of those you least expected it to. If Armitage is to turn out the same way... she's nearly 70. She won't have it in her to fight it anymore, not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. She's spent.

“Tell me,” she says eventually. “If it came down to it, if you had to pick between siding with Snoke and siding with me--”

“Rae!”

“--because if you're planning to double-cross me--”

“I'm not!” He says at once, rising. “Rae.” He goes to her. He stands before her, arms held stiffly at his sides, fists clenched in their gloves.

He stands there trembling. As if it's 20 years ago and they're agreeing to watch out for each other in these scary, uncertain times. Only this time, Rae has no bargaining chips left to play. She's got nothing left to offer him. He's already at the top of his chain of command. The only person in the entire Order who holds any higher authority on him is Sloane herself. She is all that stands in his way now of becoming Emperor. She knows that. She _feels_ that. It would be so easy for him to now.

“You wouldn't be the first to betray me,” she says. “But by the stars, Armitage, you will be the last.”

He swallows, looking miserable.

“I wouldn't even be here if not for you. Everything I have, I owe to you. I won't betray you, I swear it.”

She thinks to embrace him, but then changes her mind and doesn't. If it turns out he's lying, she doesn't want to have given him the satisfaction of knowing he's tricked her.

She's taught him better than that, right? A whole host of other malevolent influences might have had a grip on him at one point or another, but she's always been a constant, hasn't she? They stand stiffly, staring at each other in cold silence.

 _We'll see_ , she thinks. _We'll see_.

===

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow whoever actually read this, congrats! :O I have NO idea where all these words came from, especially given that honestly like nothing actually happened in this entire thing??? %) But it's done, I made Rae Sloane Emperor for a minute, and now I feel like I can move on with my life. OR CAN I?!?!?

**Author's Note:**

> omfg someone commissioned [m-oarts](http://m-oarts.tumblr.com) to draw a scene from this and I'm like... rolling around in awe. I don't know how to add it to this directly, but here's the [[link]](http://m-oarts.tumblr.com/post/161258071337/this-last-commission-was-actually-an-anonymous)!!!
> 
> ಥ_ಥ ty so much!


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